


The Penalty Game

by Deaths_Essence



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bad Influence - Female Friend, Best Friends, Biting, Body Worship, Bondage, Cross-Posted on Adult FanFiction, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Deviates From Canon, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Pictures, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Dominant Albert Wesker, Dry Sex, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, Hidden Agenda, Impact Play, Inner Alter Ego, Lingerie, Love Bites, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, S&M, Secret Relationship, Sexting, Sexual Experimentation, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spanking, Strong Female Characters, Submission, Submissive Claire Redfield, Texting, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 65,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deaths_Essence/pseuds/Deaths_Essence
Summary: It started the day Forest brought in the photo of Brad in a chicken suit. During a visit to STARS, Claire gets involved with Wesker after he learns of his STARS and Claire playing the penalty game and decides he wants to play too...with Claire. As they play, Claire finds herself becoming as addicted to him as he is to her. Set Pre-RE1, AU-ish. Rated MA for sexual content. Wesker/Claire*****CHAPTER 4 IS POSTED!!!!!*******THIS STORY IS STILL ALIVE AND WELL! Chapters 1-3 will be undergoing a rewrite, but the rewrites will be done while writing the next chapters as well. I'll update the summary when the rewrites are posted for those who want to re-read the beginning chapters.**





	1. Let the Games Begin

**The Penalty Game: Chapter 1 – Let the Games Begin**

**_Author’s Note: ***For updates in between chapter postings, check my profile on Fanfiction.net. I update the note at the top regularly to let readers know where I am in the writing process.***_ **

**_CHAPTERS 1 – 3 WILL BE UNDERGOING A REWRITE._ **

**_This is also posted on Fanfiction.net under my username, Death’s Essence, and on AFF. This is an idea that recently came to me (well, back in March when I published it on FF.net). It was inspired by the way my own relationship with my ex began._ **

**_This story is set 10 years ahead, so in 2007, instead of 1997. This is an AU story due to canon deviation, but I’ll still be somewhat following the canon. The story starts on September 3, 2007, a year before the Raccoon City Outbreak. Wesker is 37 and Claire is 18, in her last year of high school._ **

**_This is an MA-rated story. This story contains strong and extensive sexual content and language, BDSM, and other adult themes. I intend to portray the BDSM as true-to-life, not how it’s portrayed in the media or 50 Shades of Grey. If you aren't okay with any of that, I don’t recommend reading this story. You've been warned._ **

**_It's been years since I've written fanfiction, so I apologize if the writing isn't very good. The may be some OOC-ness with the characters at times to fit within my story, but seeing as how we see very little of what some characters are like in private, I do have that freedom to play a bit with the characterization._ **

**_Thank you for taking the time to read my story and please enjoy!_ **

**_Obligatory "I don't own anything related to Resident Evil or Capcom" statement. I do, however, own the plot and any original characters or concepts introduced in the story. Do not use or modify any original characters or concepts I include without my express consent._ **

**_Cover image credit: WolfShadow14081990 (DeviantArt)_ **

* * *

Wesker was a man who liked a quiet and orderly workplace. He expected his subordinates to act like professionals, at least while on duty. He understood that they were, unfortunately, human and he would have to accept a certain amount of failure from them when it came to meeting his expectations. But this was ridiculous.

Members of both Alpha and Bravo team were gathered in the S.T.A.R.S. office, along with a beautiful young woman that Wesker quickly recognized as the younger sibling of his top marksman and main source of irritation, Chris Redfield. The lovely Claire Redfield, a fiery, and unconsciously sexy, tomboy who shared her brother's temper and rebellious tenacity, but luckily not his looks. Her auburn hair, which shone like smoldering flames in the sun, was pulled up into a ponytail, her bangs framing her face. The ponytail suited her personality, but he also knew that she looked just as beautiful when that same lustrous hair fell like a crimson waterfall to the middle of her back. Her bright blue eyes, framed by dark fringe of long lashes, were wide and alert as she conversed with the others, but he knew that those eyes shifted to the color of a storm when she was angry or excited. They fit perfectly in her heart-shaped face, her bone structure managing to appear as both strong and delicate. His eyes noted her high cheek bones, the color of cream when she was calm, but he preferred the color of her cheeks when she was embarrassed or pissed, when her skin would flush a faint red. He wondered if they responded the same way when she was aroused. If her skin blushed that seductive hue at other parts of her body when she was overcome with desire. Her perfect straight nose, with just a slight point at the end, brought her entire face into balance. Her full lips were a rosy pink with a defined cupid's bow. He had spent hours imagining how her lips would feel hungrily sliding against his or wrapped around his cock, stretching to surround his girth. Right now though, her mouth was open wide with laughter, evidently one of the imbeciles he was in charge of leading had said something she found amusing.

Chris, Jill, and Barry sat at their desks with their chairs turned towards the door, angling themselves to remain part of the doofus brigade currently assembled around their workspace. Brad Vickers was leaning against the wall near the communication equipment, a sour expression on his face. This was hardly new for him, Vickers was a sad excuse for a human and worse, a pathetic example of a man. When Vickers wasn't running from the sight of his own shadow, he was usually moping about something. Joseph Frost was also present. He looked to be trying, and failing, to catch Jill's attention. Wesker didn't miss the fact that Chris was making a pointed effort to keep Jill's attention focused on him and consequently away from Joseph. This made Wesker smirk, Chris was still a child in so many ways.

What made this gathering unusual was the presence of the officers on Bravo team. Forest Speyer was the most obvious of the bunch, passing out what looked like photo prints to the others and generally making a loud nuisance of himself. Rebecca Chambers, the newest recruit to join S.T.A.R.S., and Richard Aiken on the other hand, engaged the lovely Claire in conversation at a reasonable speaking volume. Wesker had yet to ascertain from the various conversations humming around him the purpose of their appearance here. The snippets he picked up as they talked may as well have been utter nonsense.

What in the hell were they doing here before their shift? He hadn't approved any overtime requests in the last month and after the headache they'd triggered with their, strike that, with  **Forest's**  deafening arrival, he wasn't in the mood to approve any now.

He'd gritted his teeth and tried once again to focus on the reports in front of him and ignore the incessant yapping right outside his door. He'd been patient, giving them half an hour to wrap it up and get back to work. Not out of consideration for them, none of them deserved any special treatment from their boss, but so he could listen to Claire's voice, so easy to single out among the rabble. But when forty-five minutes had passed and they still had not resumed their duties, he'd had enough. Unable to bear the raucous babble anymore, he abruptly rose from his desk and stalked out of his office.

He stopped just after crossing the threshold of his office. He wanted to put an end to whatever fresh slice of hell was happening in front of him, but he wanted to indulge in his desire for Claire more. It wasn't often that he had the chance to see her during her brief visits to the station. He reasoned with himself that it would be foolish to squander this opportunity to study her alluring exterior while her attention was occupied. He couldn't be sure of when he would next have enough time to memorize the lines and curves of her body and the finer details of her uninhibited expressions and mannerisms without risking someone noticing his attention on her. He had survived the inane prattle of his underlings this long, he could deal with it for a little while longer.

He took his time admiring Claire's enticing figure, but he was still careful, keeping his scrutiny discrete. It wouldn't do for her to notice him hungrily eyeing her luscious breasts barely contained in her red button-up shirt. She had left the top three buttons undone, exposing a small triangle of her ample cleavage. He could tell from how they bounced with every small movement she made that her breasts sat high and firm on her chest, her nipples he imagined would be small rosy buds that would point straight at him when they hardened, inviting him to tease them with his fingers and mouth. He noticed that several of the other men standing around her were also stealing glances at her bust and he had to bite his tongue to contain his rage. He'd make sure they paid for it during PT later this week. Her shirt accentuated her shapely torso, tapering in at her tiny waist and then flaring out to hug her round hips. She'd rolled her sleeves up to her elbows in response to the autumn heat outside, revealing her slender wrists and hands, both of which were sporting a light tan. His eyes followed the outline of her firm, but full ass, currently covered by a pair of black shorts that ended right where the top of her thighs met the curve of her delicious derriere. He was pleased to see her in shorts rather than pants for once, it made his cock throb to see her long shapely legs naked. Her legs were the same tan shade that he'd seen on her arms, which wasn't surprising given how physically active he knew she was. Claire was a woman who was not afraid to get her hands dirty and work outside, a quality he valued. But even as a tomboy, Claire had a distinct style that was all her own, from the simple button-up down to the pair of worn black ankle boots, the heel just high enough to emphasize her long legs and perky ass.

The only way her legs could look better is if they were wrapped around his waist, desperately holding on while he slammed his hips between her thighs, forcing her to take all of his length into her tight passage until the pleasure became too much and he buried his cock in her in a single powerful thrust, reaching the end of her right as he burst and flooded her womb with his hot seed. Oh yes, he wanted Claire, and he would do whatever it took to get her. He wanted to strip her down and have her naked on his bed with her legs spread wide before him. He wanted her on her knees with her ass in the air and her face pressed to the ground as she begged him to own her. He wanted to know all her secrets and the inner workings of her intricate mind, to make her throb for him like he did for her.

And all of this would have happened already if not for a certain pest. Chris, her overbearing brother and guardian, had thus far made realizing his fantasy impossible. The problem was the oaf almost never left her alone. Not that he suspected that Wesker harbored any desires for the younger Redfield, Chris just wouldn't let anyone near her. But despite this obstacle, he felt no need to rush his plans for her, he was prepared to wait as long as necessary for the right moment to present itself. The waiting and anticipation would serve to amplify his pleasure when he finally sunk into her wet heat and made her scream his name.

He turned his thoughts quickly back to the present, careful that his expression didn't betray what he was thinking to the crowd gathered around Jill's desk. He couldn't have Chris figuring out that Wesker had anything less than professional, noble intentions towards his tempting sister after all. If Chris ever suspected what he wanted to do with his sister, he'd never let her leave their house again. At the moment though, Chris wasn't the main problem. Today he was just part of a bigger problem and Wesker's patience had reached its limit.

"Would one of you like to explain to me why you are all standing around wasting time in the middle of the day? Has everyone miraculously finished all their work already? If so, I would be more than happy to supply you with more, I assure you there is no shortage of work to be done around here." The sound of Wesker's harsh drawl interrupted their boisterous chatter, a panicked silence falling over group.

Jill was the first to break the silence and provide some sort of answer to his inquiry. Smiling apologetically at her clearly irate superior, she said "We're sorry, Captain. Vickers had to pay a penalty this weekend and some of Bravo team stopped by to drop off the pictures. I guess we got a bit carried away talking. Here, take a look, it's pretty funny."

Jill slid a picture across her desk and Wesker crossed over to the outside of it, putting his body directly in line with Claire. Sitting down, her face was level with his groin, and he took advantage of her position to force her face to press against the thick shaft concealed in his pants. Her cheek lightly rested against the bulge, the size of which was noticeable even when he wasn't aroused, as he leaned across the desk to swipe up the picture. He quickly pulled away once he had it, missing the contact of her skin against him, but knowing that any longer and it would look like he'd done it on purpose. He noted that her face was flushed pink as he pulled away and her eyes flared, but he was surprised to see she didn't look upset, in fact she looked...disappointed. Interesting.

Looking down at the picture in his hand, Wesker couldn't stop himself from scoffing. The photo featured Brad Vickers, Alpha's pilot and computer expert, in a bright yellow chicken costume wearing a pink tutu and flashy pink heels. He was standing on the corner of a street, likely located somewhere downtown given the team's penchant for bar hopping, with one of his legs bent and pointed in front of him, holding the tutu in what would have been a suggestive manner if it didn't look so absurd.

Wesker's first thought after examining the photo was to question what the fuck his team had done to get Vickers, a well-known coward, to agree to publicly wear that monstrosity. His second thought was to calculate how much alcohol it would take to make him forget ever seeing this photo. If his calculations were correct, he would need to consume several fifths of scotch. At least.

"As...enlightening as this photo is, you are all still on duty and I expect you to behave in a manner that befits a member of S.T.A.R.S. In the future, please wait until after you have finished your shift to distribute personal propaganda and humiliate your coworkers, even if it's Vickers. Those of you who are part of Bravo team, go home, your shift doesn't begin for another two hours, therefore there is no reason for you to be here. Alpha team, let me remind you that you all still have patrol duty. I expect all of you back in time for the debriefing with Bravo team before you leave for the day. Dismissed." He ignored the dramatic groans that followed, tossing the photo back onto Jill's desk and turning on his heel to get back to the considerable amount of paperwork waiting in his office. With both teams out, he might actually have enough peaceful silence to finish all his paperwork before Enrico arrived to relieve him.

His retreat however was stopped by the sound of Chris calling out to him. Stifling a snarl, he composed his face into a blank expression and turned to face Redfield, his eyebrow quirked in question.

"Captain Wesker, sir, would it be alright for my sister to wait here at my desk while I'm out? I forgot we had patrol duty today and we're carpooling while her motorcycle is in the shop. She's a good kid, I promise she won't be a bother while she waits."

Oh, this was too perfect.

It took all of Wesker's self-control to stop the devilish smirk from breaking across his face and alerting Chris to the nature of his thoughts. His patience had finally been rewarded and he would not jeopardize his chances now with a slip in his expression.

"Yes, Chris, that's fine. I see no problem with your sister waiting here while you're out on patrol. Now if there's nothing else, you should be heading out. Miss Valentine is sure to be getting impatient waiting for you."

"Thank you, sir," Chris replied, a touch of irritation tinging his response before he turned and pointed at his sister, "Be good and don't pester my boss. I'll be back in two hours."

Claire, now sitting on top of her brother's desk with her long legs hanging over the edge, answered him with a smile and a middle finger salute. Chris only laughed and blew her a kiss before running out the door, leaving Wesker alone with his unsuspecting prey.

They looked at each other for a moment, her blue eyes staring at his sunglasses, trying to discern his expression behind them. But the shades gave nothing away and the silence stretched on between them, becoming heavier with each second. He watched her grow nervous, her pupils dilating as she held his gaze, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips. The sight of the tip of her pink tongue darting out gave him ideas that he really couldn't afford to think about right now as he felt the bulge in his pants harden slightly. He saw her eyes glance down, her eyebrow slightly quirked, trying to figure out why his pants seemed tighter, before quickly glancing away when she realized what she was doing. He chuckled, relishing the blush the sound produced across her face, and turned away from her, walking back to his office. He sat back down at his desk, being careful to adjust his clothing as he lowered himself into his chair. He picked up where he had left off in his paperwork, using his exceptional hearing and peripheral vision to watch Claire shifting atop Chris' desk.

She was a social creature, he knew if he left her alone that it wouldn't be long before she sought him out. She would come to him on her own, he would accept nothing less. She would be completely oblivious to the significance of her approaching him, of choosing to spend time with him, but that wasn't important. All that mattered is that she came.

Claire watched Wesker sitting in his office, wishing she had said something to stop him, something to keep his attention on her. The silence was so uncomfortable, but not in the way silence usually was. It wasn't awkward…it was intense. Like the danger level had skyrocketed as soon as Chris had closed the door and left them alone. She and Wesker had shared a look, she was sure of that, even if she couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses. And there was something in that look, something…predatory? Maybe. Whatever it was, she liked it. And she was almost positive she had seen the swell of cloth around his...she shivered, thinking about what was concealed by his work pants. God, if he was that big now...would he even fit inside her?

She slapped her hand against her forehead, as if she could knock the thought straight out of her perverse brain. As if he would be interested in a girl like her. Men like Wesker didn't go for plain girls like Claire. His looks alone were enough to make any woman want him, why would he waste his time with her? He was painfully handsome, his features defined with rigid lines and harsh perfection. His golden blonde hair was slicked back, so you could see his face clearly. His face was defined by his strong broad jawline, his high cheek bones, the straight nose that held up his signature shades. She wished she knew what his eyes looked like, but she bet they would be striking. His lips were a little thin, but she didn't mind that, it made him look stern. Like a man that wasn't against punishing naughty little girls.

She groaned to herself. Why couldn't she control her damn thoughts right now? She never struggled this much to keep her mind out of the gutter, but something about Wesker put her hormones into overdrive. 'You are not a slave to your hormones', she internally repeated to herself, 'You can control yourself better than this.' And she could, but she realized with a bit of worry that she really didn't want to.

'Well, you're gonna have to, because there's no way he's interested in inexperienced virgin tomboys. You wouldn't even know what to do with him if he did want you!'

That wasn't entirely true. While Claire hadn't had the chance, or even the desire, to fool around with any boys, she'd discovered after first meeting her brother's boss that she had a very active imagination when it came to sex. She also had her own laptop with access to wifi at home, so anything her mind couldn't come up with she'd found on the internet. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that she gravitated towards a certain category of pleasure. Claire wasn't a shy girl, but knowing the kind of things she seemed to like made her uncharacteristically bashful. What she liked, it was weird, it had to be. Chris had raised her to be independent and strong and girls like her weren't supposed to like the sort of stuff she found herself fantasizing about when her mind drifted to Wesker. He was always the star of her dirty daydreams and in those dreams...he was her...she couldn't even finish the thought, it was so wrong.

She glanced back over at him, afraid he would somehow sense her strange thoughts. He was still working though, absorbed in his paperwork. It was probably for the best, at least until she could get her thoughts under control and act normal.

He was so beautiful, his body exactly her type. He was tall, so much taller than her that he towered over her. He had a lean, muscular build that made her mouth, and other parts, water. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his arms! She shuddered thinking about the strength they must possess. She could see his shirt sleeves stretching around his ripped biceps. His hands were large with long fingers, his nails neat and trimmed. Large hands on a man were good, she bet. Her mind trailed off now, wondering what those hands were capable of. How those large hands would feel gripping her hips, hard enough to make her gasp from the pleasurable pain, as he roughly pulled her back into his GOD DAMN IT! Focus, Claire!

She closed her eyes now, remembering how he had looked as he stood watching her earlier. His chest was just as impressive as his arms, and if the skin she'd seen peeking out from the top of his blue S.T.A.R.S.-issued shirt was any indication, those hard muscles beneath it would be smooth and firm as she trailed her mouth down his pecs to the six pack below. There wasn't an ounce of fat on the man, his waist was narrow and lean as it tapered down smoothly past his hips, past his...she didn't need to think about what lay there, there was no doubt it was as huge and impressive as the rest of him. The dark pants of his uniform showcased his long muscled legs, he clearly spent a lot of time in the gym. She didn't care much for feet, but she liked the combat boots he wore. Everything about him just screamed power, he was powerful with or without a weapon. She wanted him to focus all that power on her.

'Ha,' she thought bitterly, 'In your dreams.' She sighed again, deciding that just sitting here wasn't going to make the time pass any faster, she needed to do something to distract herself.

Wesker looked up when he noticed movement. Claire had been sitting on top of Chris' desk this whole time, looking like she was embroiled in an internal battle. Now she slipped off of Chris' desk into the nearby chair and reached for her backpack, unzipping the black bag to pull out a textbook and blue binder. For a little while she read from the textbook and sheets of paper in the binder, writing notes down every now and then.

'She must be studying,' Wesker surmised. He couldn't tell what subject the textbook covered, but whatever it was, Claire didn't seem too interested in it. She sighed and her eyes roamed around the room as she flipped through the text, skimming the material without absorbing the information. When that failed to hold her interest, she closed the book and binder with a huff, forcing them back into her backpack. He saw her look in his direction, her expression showing her inner turmoil: she wanted to talk to Wesker and relieve her boredom, but she didn't want to disobey her brother and interrupt his boss at work. In a last ditch effort to entertain herself, Claire began to try and organize the mess piled on her brother's desk. He would have told her it was pointless, that it just wasn't possible to create any semblance of order where Chris worked, but he didn't want to jeopardize his goal. So he hid the smirk on his face and let her figure out on her own that her efforts to tame the catastrophe her brother somehow worked around each day were wasted.

An hour after Chris had left, Claire gave in to her need to socialize and slowly walked towards Wesker's office. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her hips curving away from her, emphasizing her small waist, while her arms crossed under her full breasts, bringing her cleavage to his attention. He knew she had no idea the effect she had on him or how provocative her stance was, she was one of those girls who was completely unaware of her sex appeal. He was willing to bet she had no idea how often most of the men in this office, Wesker included, thought about bending her over and fucking her raw every time she dropped by to visit Chris. But her oblivious nature was part of her charm, it allowed him to memorize the way she looked when she was being unconsciously sexy so he could recall the memory later when he was alone with his overwhelming desire.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Claire asked, smiling down at Wesker.

"Not at all, dear heart, please come in. There's a seat next to my desk that you're welcome to use," Wesker offered, flashing her a slight smile that made her cheeks burn yet again and her heartbeat quicken.

She hid the pleasant shiver that tickled along her spine at the sound of him calling her dear heart, a term of endearment she had only ever heard him use for her. Taking his invitation, she eased herself into the padded chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on the edge of his desk, her upper arm flat against its surface while her face rested against her flat palm. She had no idea why he called her dear heart, she wasn't brave enough to ask, but she loved it when he did.

"Thanks, I thought I was going to go mad in there waiting for Chris to get back. It's strange, isn't it, for this office to be so quiet?"

He chuckled. "Indeed, although I wish it were like this more often. It's a miracle I manage to get any work done with the constant racket they make. Between Chris, Brad, and Barry, there's never a break in noise. Add in visits from Bravo team and well...you saw it. Utter cacophony. And nothing gets done until I go out and force them to get back to work. Sometimes I wonder if I'm in charge of a team of elite officers or a group of hyperactive children."

Claire giggled at the comparison, imagining the group of people she considered friends as little kids in oversized uniforms playing cops. She'd teased Chris for acting like a manchild on more than one occasion.

"That reminds me, dear heart, what did Miss Valentine mean earlier by Vickers having to pay a penalty over the weekend?"

Claire straightened up in surprise, mildly shocked that he didn't know about it. So many of the S.T.A.R.S. officers were involved that she'd forgotten not everyone was part of it.

"Oh, no one told you about the penalty game?"

Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her, his expression bemused. "The penalty game? No, I most certainly have heard nothing about such a thing. Perhaps you could explain it to me." Wesker smiled and leaned in closer to her as he spoke, leaning on his desk the same way she had been doing moments before. It put his face on level with hers and he saw her pulse jump in her neck, the slightest hitch in her breath the only other sign that his proximity was having an effect on her. After a thought, he reached up with his other hand and slowly pulled off his sunglasses, exposing his piercing blue eyes to her and capturing her gaze with his own. He smirked at her sudden lack of focus and waited for her to collect her thoughts and answer his question.

After a long pause, she seemed to remember where she was and cleared her throat, embarrassed with herself. Her brain had short-circuited when he'd removed his sunglasses and revealed his eyes for the first time. He probably thought she was a fool now.

"Well, to be honest, it's a game Chris and I started playing when we were younger, usually to get out of chores or something stupid like that. Then Jill and Barry heard us talking about it one day and they wanted to join in. Then word got around to the rest of the team and before I knew it most of Alpha and Bravo had joined in and it took off from there, turning into a sort of competition between everyone."

"I see," Wesker murmured, "So how exactly is this game played?"

Claire thought about it for a moment, trying to decide the best way to tell him about it. It wasn't exactly the kind of game that had a physical rule book. "The rules are pretty simple. Anyone playing the game can bet on the outcome of a situation, like a contest or sports game, or something like how a show episode will end, really anything I guess. For example, one time we all made a bet on how many days it would take Richard to realize we'd switched out the pictures of his girlfriend on his desk with pictures of Alan Rickman. It's not my place to make assumptions about his relationship, but...it took a lot longer than we expected for him to notice. None of our bets came anywhere close to the actual number."

Wesker laughed, surprising Claire. He had a nice laugh, she noted. When she got over the shock of it, she shook her head and laughed too. She remembered the look on Richard's face when he finally, after 62 days, noticed the pictures. The funniest part though was that he kept the pictures in the frames even after realizing they'd switched them.

"Anyways, everyone can take part in any number of running bets and there can be more than one bet happening at a time, it just depends on what's going on. You don't have to participate in every bet, I know I've missed out on several just because I wasn't around when it was made, but if you do skip out on one the others will give you shit for chickening out. Now for the most important part of the game: penalties. A penalty is, obviously, just something someone else has to do. Everyone participating in a bet decides on their own penalty for the loser. It can get pretty confusing when several people choose the same outcome in a bet, like which team will win a football game, so for those kinds of bets you have to be specific with your prediction, because there can only really be one winner. It's different for losers though. Sometimes there's only one loser and sometimes a group of people are the losers. It depends on the bet. I feel like I'm saying that lot, I'm sorry, I never realized how complicated the game really is. So whoever loses has to pay the penalty made by the winner. Several people could have to pay the same penalty, or it could be whoever lost by the largest margin has pay the penalty. Again, it depends on the situation. God, I'm sorry, I'm probably explaining this wrong, it must sound ridiculous to you," Claire turned her face away from Wesker, flustered by how much she was fucking up describing something she'd played for years. It wasn't that hard to understand and yet, she was struggling to convey the details to him.

Wesker reached out with his free hand and lightly gripped Claire's chin, gently pulling her face back to him. He was pleased when she didn't resist him and he rewarded her with a reassuring smile.

"Relax, Claire, I understand what you're saying. Please, continue."

Claire swallowed hard, her body temperature rising when Wesker touched her. Wesker held her chin a little longer, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly before letting her go. When she realized she had been holding her breath the whole time, she tried to release it without being obvious, but her exhalation was still shaky. How could his touch affect her like this? She'd never had such a strong reaction to something so innocent. Her skin was beginning to feel tight, like it was too small for her body, her nerve endings were alert and pulsing, those pulses going straight to her moist center.

Claire panicked when she realized she had been silent for too long and rushed to answer him, trying to remember where she had left off at. "So Brad lost the last bet we made when he came in last in the race between Alpha and Bravo last week. Since Chris came in first, Brad had to pay Chris' penalty, which you saw in the photo. That's what Jill was referring to earlier and that's why some of the Bravo team was here, because the photos were part of the penalty."

Wesker remembered that race. He had been curious when he saw most of Alpha and Bravo huddled in a group, talking in hushed tones before the race began. He had been even more curious by everyone's reactions at the conclusion of the race. Their response to Chris finishing first and Vickers coming in last had been dramatic, even for them. He wanted to roll his eyes, now it all made sense.

"I'm curious, how is it that you all were able to get Vickers to follow through with his end of the deal?" Wesker asked.

"Because the rule is that if you take part in a bet, you have to pay the penalty if you lose, no matter what it is. It's part of the game. And if you refuse to pay a penalty, then you're kicked out of the game and labeled a coward until you pay the penalty you refused, as well as another penalty that's decided by the whole team to earn your way back in."

Wesker was truly intrigued now, his mind already forming a plan.

"Tell me more about these penalties, dear heart. Are there limits to what a penalty can be? How do you decide on what penalty to give?"

Claire gave a nervous laugh as she thought about his question, her hands fiddling with the edge of her shorts. She worried what Wesker would think of her once he knew the rules, or lack of rules, when it came to making penalties. The game gave players almost complete freedom when coming up with a penalty, something that most, if not all, of the players had taken advantage of to a certain extent.

"...there aren't really any limits on what you can give as a penalty, except that it can't be illegal or too extreme. Like you can't make a penalty where the loser has to give you a $1000, everyone gets that it's gotta be something reasonable. And it's expected that everyone put some thought into making their penalty creative. When Chris and I first started playing, the penalties were innocent. Even after Jill and Barry joined in, the penalties were still pretty tame. You know, things like you pay the winner $100, you have to do their paperwork for a week, or something embarrassing like go sing I'm a little teapot during happy hour at the local biker bar, silly shit like that. But as more people joined in the...nature of the penalties expanded and everyone started trying to outdo each other. Pretty soon nothing was off limits and since everyone playing was an adult, no one really minded. It became part of the thrill to give or receive a scandalous or outrageous penalty."

"Let me get this straight," Wesker interrupted, an incredulous look on his face, "There are no limits on what you can choose for a penalty and the loser has to pay the penalty no matter what it is?"

Claire really hoped Wesker wasn't judging her for taking part now, she was just having a little fun.

"Right. But there are some guidelines we still follow. Most of us decide on what penalty to give based on who else is taking part. For example, since Barry is married and because Chris would kill anyone for trying, neither Barry nor I have ever been given a sexual penalty. Which is fine, I guess."

Claire couldn't help but huff as soon as she said it, because it wasn't fine. But she wasn't irritated with not getting to do sexual penalties, she was irritated that the only reason she didn't was because her brother wouldn't let her be an adult. That's all she wanted, for someone to treat her like she was a god damn woman and not some little girl who couldn't even say the word penis without dying of shame or giggling afterwards.

Before she could stop herself, Claire was launching into a rant, the pent-up fury she'd been hiding from her brother spilling out in front of his captain. "It's not like I want just anybody doing whatever they want to me, even if they're my friends. I'm not some slut looking for casual sex, I do have standards. But I still feel a little...left out because of it. Chris treats me like a child sometimes and it's frustrating, you know? The whole reason I play this game is because I enjoy the risk. I love the thrill of knowing that I may lose and have no choice but to take a punishment I've been given, but I also love being in a position of power, because if I win someone else has to take my penalty. But when everyone else has to modify their penalties for me to keep Chris from murdering them, there's no risk. It's just boring and I'm reminded once again that I'm just the little sister in the group. Jill and Rebecca don't back down when the guys give them dirty penalties and Rebecca isn't much older than me. And the men don't call foul when they're given some perverted task for a penalty. They all seem to have fun with it, but Chris just refuses to realize that I'm not a child anymore and that he can't keep protecting me from everything. I get it, I'm only 18, I'm barely an adult and I don't know everything, but I will never learn if he doesn't let me live my life and have experiences and make mistakes. I just want to be treated the same as Jill and Rebecca, but he won't fucking listen! Sorry, this is a sore point for me," Claire groaned and broke off from her rant when she realized what she was saying to Wesker, the man she fantasized about every night when her hands would slip between her folds and she'd pretend it was his hands playing with her clit. She'd complained like a spoiled kid and made it sound like she was pissed Chris wouldn't let his teammates fuck her, which was definitely not what she wanted him to think. She just couldn't stop digging her hole of shame deeper.

Before he could form some sort of response to her very personal outburst, Claire steered the conversation back to the game and away from her not being allowed to take part in any of the sex penalties, "That came out wrong, I don't want Chris to be fine with the guys doing whatever they want to me, I just...nevermind. Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. Even though there are no limits on what you can choose for a penalty, everyone has to follow a tiered system, where the penalties start off mild and get progressively worse, or more fun depending on who you talk to, as the game goes on. But someone has to pay one of your penalties before you can up the severity to the next level. So you can't start at the top and continue to try and top your best penalty, you gotta start small and work up to the big one."

Wesker hummed in response and shocked Claire when he casually dropped his free hand to rest on top of her knee. His touch was gentle, but firm, and she couldn't help but shudder at the heat she felt coming off of him. His thumb rubbed lightly along the inside of her knee, his other fingers tenderly massaging the smooth skin of her upper leg. She was surprised that she didn't want him to remove his hand, after all it was one thing to fantasize about the man, it was a whole other thing to actually let him touch her. She'd always assumed he'd never be interested in her, but now, she was beginning to think that maybe he did want her a little, maybe there was a chance for her with Wesker. That meant she had to reconsider what she wanted. Did she want his hand on her knee? No, what she really wanted was for his hand to drift higher, closer to the part of her that ached to be filled by him. She almost moaned aloud when his hand did inch higher, a little below the middle of her thigh. She hoped he didn't notice how her legs spread open just a bit in response, subtly inviting him to put his fingers in her.

Wesker did notice and his pants felt just as uncomfortable as her shorts must right now. He was completely hard, straining against the zipper. If he had his way, he would handle his predicament by pulling her shorts and panties down, dragging her into his lap, and savagely burying his length in her cunt. Patience, he reminded himself, all in good time. He was sure of his plan now, sure she would respond exactly how he wanted her to.

"We...we modified...the game recently," Claire panted, trying to fill the silence while doing a poor job of concealing her arousal.

"Hmm, is that so? How exactly did you..." his hand slid another inch higher on her thigh, his nails lightly scratching her skin, "modify it?"

"We thought it would be more fun...if you received a point every time you won and got...to give somebody a penalty. The games usually go on for...three to six months, so at the end whoever has the most points gets to give a penalty with absolutely...no limits or tier requirements, to anyone they choose, even multiple people. Except the penalty isn't revealed until the winner's chosen, so no one knows what they might have to do before agreeing to be in the game. And whoever the winner chooses has to pay the penalty, even if it's something really crazy. It's the ultimate risk, not knowing what you've agreed to," Claire's eyes were fluttering as she spoke, but her voice was strong as she finished.

"Do you like that sort of thing, Claire?" Wesker purred.

"Wha...what sort of thing?"

"Agreeing to do things without knowing what it'll be. Putting yourself at risk. Having someone else controlling your fate. Does that…excite you?" Wesker was sliding his fingers up and down the inside of her thigh now.

"Yes..." she breathed, "It's a rush for me. It's fun, playing the penalty game."

He chuckled darkly and whispered to her, "It does sound fun. I can certainly see the appeal of a game like that. It's unfortunate that Chris still treats you like a little girl. I can see you're an intelligent, mature young woman, you don't need his protection. I have no doubt you can handle anything Miss Valentine and Miss Chambers can."

Claire was enraptured by him, completely enamored with the way his low seductive voice made the small office feel so much more intimate than it was. She felt flattered by his words and that made her feel brave, made her want to show him just how much of an adult she was. She held his gaze as she opened her legs a little more to him and was thrilled to see his sly smile in response.

"It really is too bad no one told me about this game of yours," he continued, his hand now playing at the very top of her thighs and along the edge of her shorts, his fingers occasionally brushing across the seam and putting pressure on the slit of her pussy, watching her breath hitch each time he did it, "I would have loved to play it. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be the wisest decision for the boss to be playing games with his subordinates. There are some who might see it as a…conflict of interest. It's such a shame, I really would have enjoyed playing, especially with someone as attractive and charming as you, dear heart."

She barely heard him now. What he was doing to her felt so good, she couldn't keep her hips from rocking forward with each brush of his fingers between her legs. But just when she was about to give in and beg him to stop teasing and put his hand down her shorts, his hand suddenly pulled back and she was left…wanting. He'd given her a small taste and it wasn't enough. She breathed heavily, her breasts suddenly too big for her bra, her nipples hard and showing through her shirt. Wesker just watched her as she desperately tried to connect her thoughts, the hand that had put her in this state resting innocently in his lap.

"What if…" Claire began, trying to reign in her hormones and speak with some semblance of intelligence.

"What if what, dear heart?" A sly smile stretched across his face, he knew he had her, she was falling right into his trap.

"What if...you and I played the penalty game together? I don't work for you, so you wouldn't have to worry about a conflict of interest. I mean, if you don't mind playing with just me."

"Hmm…" Wesker pretended to ponder her words, as if he hadn't already decided on his answer before she'd asked the question, "I don't know, Claire. I'm a little concerned you won't be able to handle playing with me. I won't hold back, so you have to be ready and willing to do anything. And I'm not a gentle man, Claire, the type of pleasure I enjoy is not for the faint of heart." Wesker leaned forward now, his lips skimming the outer shell of her ear as he whispered into it, "Do you think you could handle playing with me, dear heart?"

She responded exactly as he knew she would. No Redfield could resist a direct challenge.

Bolstered by raging desire and rash bravery, Claire put her own hand at the top of Wesker's thigh, feeling the unmistakeable swell of the erection he was hiding there as she rubbed firm circles along the inside, unintentionally stroking his aching cock with each pass, mimicking what he'd done to her.

"I can take anything you dish out, Wesker," she whispered against his lips, her hot, sweet breath tickling his skin, "You're the one who had better be ready to pay the price when I win."

She licked his lower lip before she pulled away to stand over him and he laughed, his laugher both seductive and dangerous. The sound of it travelled over and into her skin, touching her in places his hands couldn't reach, stimulating the nerves and igniting her core. It made her feel warm all over and she had to glance down at where she knew the proof of his own arousal was to see if he was feeling as good she felt. Her eyes only rose from what she wanted when Wesker spoke again, the rough quality of his voice proof that it was more than just amusement he was feeling right now.

"Well then, dear heart, I look forward to playing with you. Just remember, when you lose, it's your lovely ass that's on the line."

A sultry giggle left Claire's lips, the quality of this giggle much deeper, a predatory and anticipatory sound, so different from the innocent one she'd made when she entered his office. Claire giggled with the knowledge that there were forbidden pleasures to come, that there was real danger in this game, that she was putting everything at risk playing against a man who would take it all if she lost. She felt intoxicated by the excitement of it all. She would finally have the chance to experience the deviant acts she'd imagined Wesker doing to her for real. Every time she won, she could ask him for anything and he'd have to do it. But that wasn't all she was getting out of this, she realized she wanted to be at the mercy of this dangerous man, she wanted to find out what Wesker would do to her if she lost. She felt absolutely sure as he stared up at her, his expression one of intense hunger that should have frightened her but didn't, that she was going to love playing with him.

Wesker's thoughts were running along a similar line, already planning out every naughty thing he would do to her, the lascivious deeds he would make her perform on him, all the different ways he could defile and mold her to perfection under the pretense of exacting a penalty. She didn't need to know that he'd wanted to ravish her from the moment they'd met over a year ago, that he'd had to excuse himself after her visits on more than one occasion to furiously stroke himself while imagining it was her hands gripping him just to get rid of the raging erection she'd caused. All she needed to know was that if she lost, he could do whatever he wanted to her. And he would.

Claire could faintly hear Chris talking to someone down the hallway. Alpha team was returning from patrol duty. She quickly looked over her appearance, adjusting her clothing as needed to hide how incredibly turned on she was right now. On her way out of Wesker's office, she turned to face him, one of her hands idly playing with one of her nipples poking out against her shirt, the other slipping her fingers up and down along the zipper of her shorts. Wesker immediately zeroed in on what she was doing to herself, his eyes taking in the erotic minx before him.

Confident she had Wesker's full attention, she coyly whispered, "We should probably hide our game from Chris. He's so overprotective, thanks to him I've never had a boyfriend or even gotten to experience my first kiss. He tends to overreact a lot and I'd hate for him to lose his job because he tried to attack his boss for playing with his little sister. Chris just isn't ready to accept that I'm not the good little girl he raised anymore, so let's keep this between us, okay?"

Sweet fucking god, Claire was exquisite torture. She was a virgin, not just a virgin, but a pristine pure virgin, completely untouched by anyone else. This couldn't get any better for Wesker, she was everything he had hoped for and more. He nodded, his countenance calm and sure again, he was the one in control here, he wouldn't let her see what she was doing to him, wouldn't let her think she had any power over him. But he knew from how tight his pants felt that it wouldn't take more than a few strokes of his hand to cum and release the aching pressure in his loins and she was the cause of it.

That was it, her fate was sealed. He was going to destroy her innocence with his wicked tongue between her legs. He was going to taint her purity with his rigid cock pumping into her mouth as she swallowed him whole. Wesker would desecrate every last shred of her virtue with his profane body and when he was done she would emerge as a wanton goddess that burned only for him.

"And Wesker," she purred, interrupting his train of thought momentarily, "Do try not to bore me when you make your penalties. I expect nothing but the best from a man as...talented as you."

Wesker threw his head back and laughed again, and she knew from the deep sinful tone that she was in trouble, that she hadn't been flirting with a man, but a demon, and she had just signed herself over to him.

"Oh dear heart," he stood and in one swift movement she was pressed between him and the door frame, his hands lifting her to sit on the thigh nudged between her legs, so she was stuck staring into feral eyes that promised her pleasures that were too obscene to speak aloud while his leg pressed against her folds, "Have no fear. When I win, I'm going to do things to you that will haunt you. By the end of our little game, I am going to unmake you with pleasure and pain. And you'll beg me to do it. I am going to ruin you for any other man. And you will love every. last. second. When I build you back up again, I will be your god and you will never be satisfied with anyone other than me."

If it wasn't for Chris' voice off in the distance, Claire would have been convinced she was asleep and in the middle of the most intense wet dream she'd ever had. His voice was dark and serious, his words cut her open and licked the wounds, and she could almost see the X-rated pleasures that awaited her as she stared at her reflection in his eyes. She was visibly panting, her eyes half open, barely able to discern the satisfied smirk he wore now as he watched her. She was so wet, she could feel her panties clinging to her skin, the moist heat sinking to saturate her shorts and, consequently, his pant leg. She'd never been so singularly aware of how empty she felt, how much she ached to be filled over and over again. She needed to experience all he promised, to be overwhelmed and consumed by ecstasy.

The voices in the hallway were getting louder, so Wesker lowered Claire down slowly, stepping away to give her room as she steadied her breathing. She knew she should run, she knew she should be very afraid. But she wasn't, oh no, far from it, she yearned for the punishments he promised almost as much as she craved to see him submit to her as she exacted her own penalties on him. If she was lucky, maybe she could enjoy the pleasure of both.

Chris came through the door then, loudly arguing with Joseph about the proper way to clean a handgun. Claire quickly jumped away from Wesker and walked back to Chris' desk, bidding members of both Alpha and Bravo team a casual hello as they filed into the room. 'That's right, Claire, just act normal, not like you just had the hottest experience of your life with their boss just now.' Spying a notepad on Chris' desk and seeing how distracted he was in his argument with Joseph, Claire had a sudden thought and she quickly jotted something down onto the sticky note, folding it into her hand before Chris turned his attention to her.

"Hey you, you ready to go? You've got to be starving by now, I know I am. Let's get out of here and grab something to eat!" Chris crossed to his desk to put a few things in the bottom drawer. While he was busy trying to find his keys somewhere among the mess piled on his desk, Jill took the opportunity to taunt Chris about his bottomless pit of a stomach.

"How can you be starving already, Chris? We just ate a couple hours ago while we were out. Do you have some secret workout routine that lets you eat as much as you want and never gain weight or something?" Jill teased, watching Chris smirk at her as she leaned against her desk.

"Maybe I do. If you want, I can show you my secret and we could workout together." Chris' tone heavily implied that the kind of workout he wanted to do with Jill was one that didn't involve clothes.

Jill laughed, shaking her head at Chris' brazen attempt at flirting and swatting his arm when he took the chance to invade her personal space to trap her against her desk. This quickly caught the attention of several of their fellow teammates, who immediately began to heckle the two of them in good fun. Claire watched it all and felt a small stab of pity for Wesker, she wouldn't have been able to stay sane if she had to deal with this every day.

Almost as if her thoughts summoned him from his office, Wesker stepped into the room, his appearance betraying nothing about the fact that not ten minutes before he'd been on the verge of unzipping his pants and using her hands to get him off. He used his intimidating voice now to effortlessly call the room to order and make a few brief announcements to the Alpha team before dismissing them for the day and turning his attention to Bravo team.

"Come on, Claire, let's go," Chris called to her from the doorway, already halfway out.

"One second," Claire responded, walking straight up to Wesker and extending her hand to him. If Wesker was confused by her sudden change, he didn't show it, grasping her hand without hesitation and giving it a firm shake.

"Thank you for allowing me to wait here while Chris was on patrol, Captain Wesker. I enjoyed speaking with you and I look forward to talking with you again in the future," Claire said, knowing Wesker would pick up her hidden meaning.

"Likewise, Miss Redfield. Have a good night and please get home safe," Wesker smirked as she turned and left, making sure to tuck the note she'd slipped him during the handshake into his fist to discretely slip into his pocket.

When Wesker was heading home himself, he took the note out of his pants pocket and unfolded it. He chuckled to himself when he saw that she'd written down her cell phone number for him on it.

* * *

Later that night, after Chris had gone to sleep, Claire sat alone on her bed, her hair still wet from the shower she'd taken earlier. She was thinking about what had transpired with Wesker, wondering if he'd meant what he said and really wanted to play with her, when her phone lit up, the screen showing she'd received a new text message. The sender was unknown but she knew who it was as soon as she read the text.

_You have until Friday to decide on your first penalty. Be ready, dear heart._

She laughed quietly to herself and saved his number in her phone before writing back.

_Oh I'm ready all right. Ready to win. Just remember the rules, I don't want this to reach the climax too quickly._

She knew she was baiting him, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to see how he responded. She nearly squealed when her phone finally vibrated with his reply.

_I remember them. Stay confident, it'll make it so much sweeter for me when you lose. I hope your endurance is as indomitable as your confidence, because I don't intend to let you reach the climax for a very, very long time. Rest assured though, dear heart, that I will make you cum._

She moaned aloud before she could catch herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth and listened hard, hoping Chris hadn't woken up at the strange sound coming from his sister's room. The house was silent, so she guessed she was in the clear. She read the message again, and again, and again. God, what had she gotten herself into? She wanted this, she wanted him, so badly. She was afraid, that was true, but it was a good fear. She knew with absolute certainty that she would never be the same after this. Wesker was going to ruin her, he'd said so himself. It was as if he could see into her soul and knew exactly what she needed. Realizing she needed to write something back, but unable to come up with a witty reply, she chose to keep her response honest and simple.

_I can't wait._

* * *

**_If you made it this far, thank you! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it._ **

**_Please review, even if it's just a short one! It keeps me going on the days when I'm struggling. I'd love to hear what you guys think and I'm always open to suggestions. I'm fine with constructive criticism, but no flaming, please. I know this sort of content isn't for everyone, but no one is forcing you to read it and making me feel bad won't help. I have severe ADHD and bipolar disorder, so if I take a while to update, I'm sorry. Feel free to PM me if I take too long, sometimes just knowing that one person out there doesn't think my work is shit is the kick in the ass I need to whip out another chapter. Again, if you're wondering when the next chapter will come out, check my profile. I update the note at the top of my profile regularly to keep people in the loop of what I'm doing and when to expect an update, as well as if something comes up that will cause a chapter to be posted later than I had originally intended._ **

**_THANK YOU FOR READING! In the next chapter, Wesker and Claire begin their game and make their first bet. What will they choose as they decide on the other's penalty? Which one will win the first round? Wait and see._ **


	2. The First Bet

**The Penalty Game – Chapter 2**

**_A/N – Thank you so much to everyone who read or reviewed/favorited/followed chapter 1! I can't tell you how floored I was by the response! I really wasn't sure how well the story would be received, so it's a relief to find out that others like what I wrote._ **

**_***For updates in between chapter postings, check my Fanfiction.net profile. I update the note at the top regularly to let readers know where I am in the writing process.***_ **

**_I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS! I really didn't want to go this long between updates, but a lot has been happening and this chapter was originally really long! I had to split it into two chapters, so chapter 3 is a direct continuation of chapter 2._ **

**_***IMPORTANT TIME SETTING NOTE: For this story, I moved the original timeline ahead 10 years to incorporate the technology of today, gives me more ways to play. Instead of it being 1997, it's 2007. So Raccoon City gets nuked in October 2008.***_ **

**_***WESKER CHARACTER NOTE: This is my theory on Wesker's personality. We know he's capable of friendship, the canon shows he had one friend, William Birkin. They knew each other for years, probably spent a lot of time together, they participated in Marcus’ assassination together, and they likely respected one another. He also asked Birkin to leave Umbrella with him. Based on that, I assume he must be able to care about a person on some level. I think Wesker can only form attachments to a very select few because of his childhood._ **

**_And once he does become attached, he never lets them go. Partly because he's obsessive and egotistical, but also because when his interest in someone is triggered, or he bonds with a person enough to enjoy being around them, it alters him mentally in a way that makes the person, while alive, a necessary part of his life to maintain his mental stability. I think he suffered a great deal of emotional trauma during his childhood that he never dealt with (and likely isn’t aware of) and that made him the way he was in the games._ **

**_The games didn’t reveal much of his background, but I’ve done some research into the effects of childhood traumas and how they manifest in adulthood, and I can guess at a few things that likely happened to him. We know he was kidnapped as a child and taken from his family, the kidnapping may or may not have been violent. We know that all the Wesker children underwent mental conditioning and rigorous training and endurance tests. Since Progenitor wasn’t completed until 1966 and Umbrella wasn’t established until 1968, but the Wesker Children project began in the 60s, he was likely kidnapped between the ages of 6-9. But since he wasn’t aware that his upbringing was designed and controlled by Spencer, he must have been brainwashed to forget his original family or too young to really remember them well, so I put his age closer to 8 when he was taken. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was raised by an Umbrella-appointed fake family with a narcissist father. And he likely grew up in an emotionally-repressive home (the kind of home where you had to hide your emotions to keep yourself safe, because emotions could be used against you) where he received little to no affection._ **

**_I suspect strongly that he was abused physically, and likely emotionally. Any failure to meet or exceed expectations was likely punished with physical violence or some form of neglect. His ‘family’ must have made him believe that he had to be the best to have any worth and molded him to adhere to Spencer’s treasured ideals. My final assumption for his background is that his fake parents controlled his every action and placed extreme restrictions on him, robbing him of any sense of control over his own life. When I took into account what I already knew about his character and his words/actions in the games, all of these assumptions made sense and fit within his character profile. These types of childhood trauma could produce a man like Wesker._** **_I know my character theory definitely takes creative liberties with the canon, but that's my reasoning and I'm going with it.***_**

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**_Enjoy chapter 2, please review afterwards!_ **

**_Obligatory "I don't own anything related to Resident Evil or Capcom" statement._ **

**_Cover image credit: WolfShadow14081990 (DeviantArt)_ **

* * *

 

Wesker sat in his den, reclining in the comfort of a dark brown leather armchair as he sipped an aged Cognac from a crystal snifter. The blonde was pondering this new development with the lovely Claire Redfield. It was sudden. Unexpected. And so very convenient. How often did opportunities like this fall into his lap? Rarely. To not act on this stroke of good fortune could potentially cost him an advantage later. But it would have to be approached carefully, handled with a meticulous hand, and guided along a path designed specifically for her. A day had already passed, but he hadn't had a free moment to go over the fortuitous event from yesterday and review the information he had learned. To adapt his strategy and use this recent change to gain ground on what would be a long process.

Now that he knew Claire was an untouched virgin, a detail that left him painfully erect each time he remembered it, he'd have to modify his plans somewhat. Not the end goal, that would remain the same, but the means he would need to employ to make Claire his. A virgin Claire, she couldn't be any more perfect. His mouth watered at the thought of her laying naked and flushed beneath him, with her legs wide open and so ready to give herself to him, the dark satisfaction of taking her virginity and breaking her hymen - physical proof of his claim on her - when he took her to his bed for the first time, the way she would cling to him in pain as he soothed her with soft kisses and whispered praise, how her discomfort would shift to pleasure as he began to move within her and make her whole in the way only a man could, the look of rapture on her beautiful face as they went headlong into blissful oblivion together.

A groan escaped his lips as he reached down to adjust near his belt, the protrusion of his painful arousal evident even in his dark slacks. This was nearly an hourly occurrence that was quickly becoming intolerable. Wesker chose not to deal with his erection, he couldn't afford to let lust distract him right now.

Wesker would be the first, last, and only man to penetrate her sweet body, to feel her walls stretch around his thick cock, to fill her passage with his hot seed. He wanted, no,  **needed**  to root himself in her welcoming heat, but that wouldn't have the effect he desired. Not yet. It pained him greatly to think it, but sex alone wouldn't be enough to bind her to him absolutely. Any useless boy could fuck a woman and she might crave him for a while, maybe even remember him fondly, but that wasn't enough for Wesker. He aimed to ingrain himself so deeply into her soul that he became a part of her, so that she'd always feel his absence.

It was only fair that she obsess about him as he did her, so she could understand the torment he bore every day. Obsession was natural for Wesker, it wouldn't be for Claire. So for this to be possible, he'd have to chip away at her mental barriers, the mind's natural defenses that protected a person's core from being altered by external forces. Those walls would be demolished to expose her vulnerability to his wicked ministrations. Then he could ensure that she wouldn't be able to live without him. But she'd need to retain her inner strength, without it she wouldn't be able to survive as his mate or thrive while he courted her and revealed his true nature.

He eyed the picture frame he kept on the long desk sitting across from the wall of monitors on the other side of the room and smiled. The photo was of him and Claire. Chris had technically been in the picture as well, as it was taken when Chris had won an award for his marksmanship and the three had posed together for a photo. But he'd cropped the third wheel out, leaving only him and his beaming dear heart in the picture, his arm politely snaked around her back to look casual as they stood next to each other.

Yes, the break down would have to be gradual, a single piece at time. Introducing her to his world in increments would ensure a gentle cultivation. Slowly seducing his love's mind before he marked her body as his would allow her to willingly accept, and adore, being possessed by him. What he intended wouldn't destroy her independence or force of will, nor her psyche, as he had no desire to keep her as a hollow shell that lived to serve him and followed orders without question simply because the personality behind the eyes didn't exist any longer. To snuff out her fire would be the greatest sin imaginable. His fierce temptress would retain who she was, because it was her unique character as well as her physical loveliness that had infatuated him. But he was aware that he was a difficult and selfish man, someone with intense passions and a monopolizing nature. And she would need to be prepped for that. He was an ambitious man with grand schemes for the future, if she was going to remain with him once he put those machinations into action, 'and she would,' he thought with a snarl, then some warping and molding was mandatory.

He tipped the glass back against his lips, the amber liquid sliding down his throat. The cognac warmed the pit of his stomach where it settled, calming his inner monologue.

First things first, he reminded himself, there was a natural order of events that would have to be observed to achieve his goals within the timeline he'd allotted. A woman's heart took time to coax open and there was the issue of his dear one's infuriating brother. He could be a hindrance if he wasn't extremely careful. Thankfully, Claire was just as keen on her brother not becoming aware of their involvement with one another. Still, finding time alone with her might prove difficult. His position as Chris' superior provided him some power to create opportunities, but it was limited. For now, he could work around this problem, but it would need to be addressed further later.

He thought back to the look in her eyes as he'd teased her thigh in his office, how she'd panted for him and spread herself open to unconsciously invite him to touch her most intimate place. She was attracted to him, that much he was sure of. But was it enough to move forward? It was a gamble, one wrong move, a single push too far, and the damage could be irreparable. However, it was imperative that she share his erotic tastes for this to succeed, because it was unacceptable for him to be the only one enjoying their trysts. To not be able to, or worse, not be concerned with pleasing his woman would be a black mark against him as a man, a failing in his duties and abilities.

The very thought filled him with rage. Wesker did not fail. And his dear heart would never be left unsatisfied. But he couldn't change what he was. Even though Wesker was able to take pleasure in the lighter variety of sex, it would never truly satisfy him. No, his passions veered towards the unconventional. The twisted. What most would label as "kinky", a silly term that nonetheless described the BDSM-based nature of his physical intimacy. He was a sadist, a dominant, a predator for willing prey. This was something he kept to himself not out of shame, as he felt none, but in the interest of maintaining his public image. Humans were weak and frightened by that which they did not understand, even more so when it was given a name.

For him, it was a requirement that she be able to enjoy his touch, because there was only so much gentleness he could give her, it just wasn't a strong component of his temperament. Her being entirely untouched and deliciously new to the pleasures of the flesh simplified the process though, and for that he was grateful. A virgin would be infinitely easier to influence, far more susceptible to his carnal indoctrination as he primed her to be his life partner. He'd have to push her out of her comfort zone, pairing punishment, humiliation, and debasement with affection, praise, and tenderness to make her receptive to her training. In time, fear and pain would be spices to enhance her pleasure, things she would eagerly crave when she was with him.

To ensure her happiness, it was essential that she become accustomed to doing things she may not want to do for the sake of pleasing him. If she was to act as his right hand in the empire he would build, there would be times where she'd have to be morally flexible to do what needed to be done. But he could begin those lessons in the bedroom and bolster her confidence as she fell under his sway. A submissive sex kitten in the bedroom was the dream of any dominant male, but outside of it he would need a capable and independent partner absolutely loyal to him. Besides, he didn't want a true submissive, he wanted her to be willing to take orders, but there was a perverse appeal to Claire's penchant for resisting and fighting control. There were much more naughty possibilities of the fun they could have together if she loved to fight, to resist, to run as he gave chase.

"Let's hope dear heart is the adventurous type," He muttered to no one, swallowing the last of the cognac in one gulp.

It mattered more to him that he have a companion in the future, one person he could completely trust, someone who he knew would never betray him. He'd need his woman to handle things when he was away and support him as he gained power. Claire would fill that role. She would support him, satisfy him, love him, and in return he would be her world. He would be devoted to her so she'd never wanted for anything ever again.

Although he was not a man that most would consider capable of love, he could indeed experience the emotion. The misconception had originated from his cold demeanor, the rare display of compassion, and his complete lack of interest in others. What those fools didn't realize was that they simply weren't worth it, they were beneath his notice and to expend energy to blend genuine emotion into his behavior just to appear approachable and social for them would be an egregious waste. They weren't one of the worthy. She was worthy though, his Claire. There was never a question in his mind of if he could love her. How could Wesker not? She had captivated him from the moment he'd seen her fighting for her life in the rain. She hadn't known he was there that day, didn't know that it was him who had saved her and brought her to the hospital. Her resilient strength and unwavering bravery in the face of death had been breathtaking, and he'd been impressed with how well she'd held off the four bigger men with her combat skills, but what stuck with him afterwards was how perfectly she fit in his arms, nestled snugly against his chest as he carried her unconscious body to safety, away from the alley that would later be declared a murder crime scene.

'As much as it pained me to part with you at the hospital, to not allow anyone to see me as I left you there, it had to be done, beloved.'

Being connected to the crime as her rescuer would have subjected him to troublesome questioning and suspicion. He'd have become the focus of the investigation rather than the supervisor. The last thing he needed was some overzealous cop itching for a promotion probing his private life and potentially discovering his real work. As gratifying as it would have been to see her face as she awoke and learned that Wesker was her hero, that he had been the one who rescued her from the scum after she had been knocked out, before they could gang-rape her and slit her throat. An evil glee filled Wesker as he recalled their surprise and then fear when they recognized him as he stepped out of the shadows. They'd thought he planned to arrest them, to give them a chance at a trial where they'd either weasel their way out of judgment or receive a sentence that would barely qualify as slap on the wrist. How wrong they'd been. Wesker hadn't needed to use his Samurai Edge to kill them, he was more than adept at hand-to-hand combat and snapping their weak necks was quicker and quieter than a bullet in the head that could be traced back to him. It was over before they could turn to run or yell for help. He'd carefully lifted Claire from the dirty asphalt and cradled her protectively in his arms, and the grime and blood had done nothing to diminish her beauty or deter the spontaneous birth of his fascination, which would soon grow into an amorous fixation, with the enigma laying so vulnerably against him.

No one could call Wesker a fool for his attachment to the young woman, not if they wanted to live. He knew that lesser men had been brought down by relationships, by love. For the weaker masses, love could be a distraction that ultimately resulted in failure. But Wesker was superior to the pitiful rats that surrounded him. When handled properly, love could be a very effective weapon. He'd seen first-hand what love could do to a well-matched couple. People in love would do anything for the object of their affection, betray anyone, even sacrifice themselves for the sake of their lover. They defied their limitations and rose to levels they could have never achieved before, all to impress their other half. Some even came out victorious against impossible odds when their love was at stake.

There were risks to caring about a single person so much, particularly for a dangerous man like Wesker. It was those risks that had originally made the entire concept intolerable to him. Until he'd met Claire. She'd unknowingly awoken in him a dormant need for intimacy that rainy day. Then he'd seen the possibilities, realized what could potentially be gained with a woman like her at his side. The risks could be avoided by simply choosing an exceptional woman worthy of his love and shaping her to be the companion he needed. Once he had her affection and steadfast loyalty, he'd expand her conditioning to address the external risks. By training Claire in combat so she could protect herself during the brief periods when she'd be away from his side, educating her so she'd be ready for any situation, that way no one would be able to use her against him. There would always be unknown factors to deal with, invisible foes that could emerge and threaten them, but he was confident they could put them down together once she was ready to be revealed as his to the world he operated in.

God help anyone who tried to come between them.

Getting back to the more pressing task of choosing an appropriate penalty, Wesker had a thought. Taking her innocence and the rules into account, he should start simple. Claire may have talked big before, but he knew that brave confident front would crack and crumble as they played and her innocence caught up with her. He knew why she had issued him the challenge of not boring her with his choices. She was hiding her inexperience and making him responsible for pushing her into new sexual territories. He was sure that as the penalties became more deviant and her competitive side urged her to try and top his punishments, that the bashful virgin inside her would ultimately get in the way. Then he would be able to take control, to force her introduction to the kind of sex he indulged in.

She probably didn't realize it yet, but fantasizing about what she liked wasn't the same as taking part in it physically. It was easy to be confident when she was only thinking about it. But he would make her do it. He would let her feel the embarrassment and shame of every act, then show her how wrong she was to feel that way, that what she was doing was so very right. He would prove to her that she was sexy and desirable as she did it. That it pleased him to see her like that. And because of that she'd try harder, push herself more, to please him, more willing to abandon her fears in order to make him happy.

But he had to start small first or he'd scare her away. Claire probably thought that he would start gentle and ease her into this because she was so new to it all. And he would be gentle - gentle for Wesker. He doubted his definition of gentle was anything close to her definition of it. In fact, it might be beneficial for him to gauge her receptiveness based on her first penalty and decide from there on how to proceed. But that meant he would need to let her win the first bet. As much as he despised losing, it wouldn't be a real loss. He'd still get something out of it and he'd gain what could be valuable intel on Claire's mental state by giving her this first win.

He'd need to choose their first bet to be something he could accurately predict the outcome of to be sure he picked the losing bet without making it obvious to Claire that he'd allowed her to win. So it would need to be something that he was very familiar with that she wasn't.

Wesker took a moment to think on this, putting the crystal glass on the desk. Alpha team was scheduled for target practice at the RPD shooting range Friday afternoon. Although Barry was an excellent shot, he always missed the center on the last target. Claire likely knew that Barry was a great marksman, but not a perfect one, even during a controlled environment like practice. He'd set her up to bet that Barry would miss at least once and he would of course wager that Barry wouldn't, knowing the outcome would be in her favor. She'd be happy that she'd won and he'd pretend to be appropriately disappointed, but eager to fulfill her penalty. After that, the next loss would be hers and he'd give her the first of many orgasms. It wouldn't be long before her body associated anything he did to her as pleasure. Then he could teach her the joys of sexual torment and the exquisite sensation of pain mixed with tenderness.

Wesker smiled in the dim room, a sinister look in his eyes. He was looking forward to that.

* * *

 

Claire sat on her bed in her plain black pajama shorts and red tank top, twisting the blue comforter in her hands to try and dispel her nervous energy. Now that she'd had a full day to sleep and comprehend what she'd agreed to Monday, her daring attitude was beginning to fail her. It's not that she wanted to back out, she wasn't a coward after all, and she did think Wesker was exceptionally attractive and enjoyable to be around. Intimidating to be sure, but still fun to talk to. She definitely desired a physical connection with him, what woman wouldn't? But she didn't just want his body, she wanted a relationship. She was worried that he would think she was easy and that she just wanted to fool around with an older man. And she was afraid that he would go too far too fast.

Her mouth and impulsiveness had gotten ahead of her yesterday and now she might be in trouble. This wasn't some nobody college boy she was messing with, this was  **the**  Captain Albert Wesker, leader of the illustrious S.T.A.R.S. and the hero of Raccoon City.

Out of curiosity, Claire grabbed her laptop from her desk to google Wesker's name, not even needing to get off of the bed since the two were right next to each other. Maybe she could learn more about the man, figure out his character. She didn't find much beyond the numerous news articles covering his many accomplishments with the S.T.A.R.S., all praising his leadership skills and valor as he worked to protect the city's citizens and reduce the crime rate. She did happen to find a few links about Wesker's higher education, all were archives of past commencement ceremonies and the list of names for the graduates. She was very impressed to discover, if Chris had told her the correct year of Wesker's birth, that he'd already received his Bachelors of Science in Chemistry and Biology, a Master's degree in Cell Biology, and a PhD in Biochemistry. All by the age of 17. All from prestigious Ivy League universities.

That made Claire feel worse. Wesker really was out of her league, he'd accomplished more before his 18th birthday than she probably would before her 30th. She'd known the man was intelligent, but she'd severely underestimated him. Albert Wesker was clearly a genius. Just one more thing to add to the growing list of reasons why Wesker couldn't possibly be human, right next to him being a perfect example of the male form and a diligent leader.

It did beg the question though, why was he working in law enforcement when his education was so specialized in the sciences? Wouldn't it make more sense for Wesker to be a super researcher in some big lab or something? She couldn't find any other information about him before the age of 17, or even before he created the S.T.A.R.S. teams last year. It was a little strange, but then again, he wasn't really famous outside of their city, so maybe she shouldn't be surprised.

She was happy to learn that he was clearly interested in the scientific fields and not just law enforcement, like her brother. Her favorite classes in school were chemistry and biology, she found the subjects fascinating, so it was nice to see she and Wesker had some common interests. Chris didn't get why she liked that sort of thing, he thought science was boring and that she should focus less on school and more on having a social life. He wanted her to do well in the real world, she knew that, but he had told her on a number of occasions that it bothered him that she didn't seem to have any friends her age, that she preferred being alone or with him to hanging out with her peers. That was part of the reason why he let her visit him at work so often and play the penalty game with his teammates, he didn't want her being alone so much.

It wasn't that Claire was antisocial, she just didn't like being around most people her age. She couldn't relate to them, they either bored or annoyed her, so focused on stupid shit like how cruel it was they didn't get the expensive car they wanted for their birthday, how it was unfair that their parents wouldn't let them go to so-and-so's party, how nobody "got them" and their "struggle" when most of them had never suffered a day in their lives.

Listening to them made her angry sometimes, because she did know what it was to suffer. To lose. To grieve. She'd lost her parents when she was eleven, right after Chris had come back from finishing boot camp for the Air Force. They didn't have any other family and he didn't want Claire to grow up in foster care, so Chris had become her legal guardian and taken care of her, doing his best to raise her. She knew it was hard for him, barely 17 years old and already saddled with a child when he couldn't even handle taking care of himself. So Claire had made it her job to take care of him, keeping the tiny house they shared clean, doing all the chores, making their meals, washing his uniform every day and doing the rest of the laundry over the weekend. She kept her grief from losing her parents to herself, not wanting to add to her brother's stress. To his own pain. She went without the luxuries that so many others took for granted without complaint, because she didn't need them as long as she had her brother.

And because he worked so much to keep a roof over their heads, she was often alone. She'd been lonely at first, but over time she'd grown used to it, eventually preferring the solitude. She told herself that she didn't need anyone else to be happy, and most days she believed it.

But even though she loved her brother and was grateful for all he'd done to take care of her over the years, they'd began to butt heads once she turned 16 and grew tired of all the rules she felt she didn't need. First it was how much she swore and her unladylike language, but what did he expect when she lived with a guy that cursed like a sailor? So he'd given up on that one since he couldn't clean his mouth up either.

Then it was her not telling him where she was all the time or not being at the house when he came home from work. Granted, she was usually just at the library or picking up a few groceries from the store, but he always jumped to the worst possible conclusion and assumed she was dead or kidnapped. So he'd gotten them cell phones so he could keep in contact with her.

Then it was how late she stayed out, he wanted her home by 8. She thought that was unreasonable considering she wasn't doing anything wrong, she wasn't out partying or hooking up with boys, or whatever else normal teenagers did to rebel against their parental figures. She was about as boring as they came for a teenager. Her evening shenanigans were usually just taking night hikes on the Arklay trails or reading at the park. But she still didn't like being given a curfew when she'd done nothing to deserve one. 16 to 17 had been a long year thanks to that rule. He'd finally relented when he joined the S.T.A.R.S., but only because Jill, his not-so-secret crush and one of her only friends, had interceded on her behalf and told him to lighten up. He'd extended her curfew to eleven p.m., but forbid her to date or spend time alone with any boys. Since there weren't any  **boys**  she liked and Wesker was most definitely a  **man**  who barely noticed her existence, she was fine with that. Trust a teenager to use the literal interpretation to get around a rule.

Their biggest fight was right before she turned 18. Chris had sat her down one day and told her he didn't want her playing the penalty game with them anymore, that it was too mature for her and it wasn't an appropriate game for someone who was about to reach the age of adulthood, read: old enough to legally consent to sex. He said he didn't want the other guys taking advantage of how young and naïve she was to get her to do "things" for them while playing the game.

Oh man, she had given him the full taste of the infamous Redfield temper that day. She'd called him every name in the book, as well as a few new ones she'd made up on the fly, and accused him of babying her. When that hadn't worked, she'd had no choice but to use her secret weapon: she'd called Jill and cried to her about it. An hour later Jill was at their house giving Chris another earful on the dangers of not letting his sister grow up and overprotecting her when she would eventually have to leave home. The winning strike was when Jill had told him that it would be his fault if the first guy Claire met outside of the suffocating safety of her brother's watch played her just to get her into bed because Chris had made sure she wouldn't ready for the real assholes out there. As she'd expected, he gave in and allowed her to keep playing with them. But unknown to her, he'd immediately sent a message to all the guys on the team, save for Barry and Wesker for obvious reasons, threatening to beat them within an inch of death if they ever tried to touch his soon-to-be legal sister.

So here she was: 18 and pure, about to play a typically sexual game with a very experienced man 19 years her senior. A very experienced, very sexy man that she had been fantasizing about for the last year.

He'd texted her that she had till Friday to decide her first penalty, so that gave her 4 days, including today. But what should she choose?!

Now that she had to actually come up with something, she was at a loss. What if she started off too sexual and it went faster than she was ready for? Or what if she chose something too boring and he decided she was too childish for him? Or what if her penalty was something she thought she'd enjoy and he thought it was…weird…that there was something wrong with her?

He'd said something about pleasure and pain yesterday, but that didn't mean he was into kinky stuff. Lots of guys liked to be a bit rough, according to Jill. She didn't want him to think she was some sort of freak. And for all she knew, she really wouldn't enjoy that kind of play either. Wasn't there a saying for that? Something along the lines of the fantasy being better than the reality. But…maybe she would. Still, she couldn't start off with something like that, it'd be too embarrassing, and the rules dictated that she had to start small anyways.

Now that she was thinking about it, there was something small that she'd always wanted to experience with Wesker. It was a good starting point for her too, not too crazy but still something they could both enjoy. Yeah...the more she considered it, the more comfortable she felt with her decision. Now she just had to anxiously wait for Friday to get here.

Claire wondered what Wesker would choose as his first penalty. Would she be able to do it if she lost? She wasn't sure. She'd acted like she was down for anything when she was in the moment, but she'd been showing off, trying to get this incredibly hot older man to be interested in her. She didn't feel like she could tell him no if what he asked was something she wasn't ready for. Okay, she knew she could say no and he wouldn't force her to do anything. But she was afraid that if she did, he would be disappointed in her, like she'd tricked him into thinking she was this mature woman when really she was a silly girl.

She didn't want him to think that, anything but that. Claire sighed to herself, she'd just have to…prepare herself for whatever he chose. Even if he wanted to fuck her as his first penalty. She'd told him she'd be ready and willing to do anything if he played with her and she'd be damned if Claire Redfield was called a liar.

By Wednesday night she was feeling comfortable with her decision from Monday and back to excited anticipation for Friday to come, curious to know what they'd be betting on. He hadn't said anything to her since they'd last talked, and while she didn't want to needlessly bug him, she did want to know what he had planned Friday. She figured she had waited long enough to send a little text without annoying him.

_So have you decided on your penalty yet?_

_Yes._

That was all he wrote.

Why was she not surprised with his response? It was just like him to answer that way, short and succinct. No unnecessary fluff.

_Will you tell me what it is? You know, so I can make sure mine's better._

There, that was confident without sounding overly interested. It totally hid how anxious she really was. When her phone vibrated and she saw his reply, she was disappointed to see that Wesker wasn't going to satisfy her curiosity just yet.

_Let's keep our penalties a secret until after we see which of us is the winner, dear heart. It'll be more fun that way, don't you think?_

She thought about it and had to agree. Even as she buzzed with anxiety, there was an underlying tremor of exhilaration quivering through her. They were on equal footing, neither of them would know what the other had planned until it was too late. The suspense was painful, but she was starting to like the way it made her thoughts spin and her skin tingle with fear and a yearning for more.

_Mhmm. It's a little exciting to not know what you're planning._

His response made her pause.

_Are you afraid?_

She imagined him saying that to her in the deep timbre of his voice, the words caressing her ears in a low purr. Her body responded immediately, tensing up and growing hot.

_A little bit. But I'm more excited than scared._

Honesty was always her policy, she thought it would be wiser to just admit to him that she was feeling a small amount of trepidation going into this. Not enough to change her mind though.

_Don't be afraid, Claire. I promise you'll enjoy yourself. I wouldn't choose anything I wasn't sure you'd love. I'm going to make you feel so good._

She blushed and fanned her face with her hand. She still wasn't used to how bold he was with his words. She knew he was a refined and polite man, always addressing the women he worked with, and Claire when others were in earshot, as Miss along with their last name. She got the impression that he had a very proper upbringing. Chris had even said to her once during one of his drunken stupors that he didn't think the man even thought about sex, even though he was handsome enough that he could probably get it anytime he wanted. Chris had been very, very drunk. His head would probably explode if he knew how erotic Wesker really was, the man exuded powerful sensuality like a cologne. Claire would go so far as to say he was shameless, or she would if she didn't enjoy the way he talked to her so much.

Her musing was interrupted when her phone vibrated again, a second text from him following shortly after his previous one.

_Have you decided on yours yet?_

She groaned. This was the other thing weighing on her mind.

_Yes, but…I'm worried that it's too tame. I don't want to bore you._

Strangely, he didn't respond immediately like he usually did, sending Claire's fear skyrocketing that she was right and Wesker was beginning to doubt his decision. Just as she was about to send another text to try and salvage the situation, he'd written back.

_Dear heart, you could never bore me. I assure you, anything you choose will be enjoyable for me. And as for it being too tame...we're just getting started. You can always impress me later by outdoing one of my penalties. I find fearless and competitive women to be quite attractive. And those are two of your strongest qualities._

She was at a loss for words, she hadn't expected him to be so sweet to her. Wesker wasn't the kind of man most would describe as sweet. But her heart fluttered when he essentially said that Claire was his type of woman. That made her feel very good. So good, in fact, that it went straight to her head.

_I only need a few bets to have you figured out, then I'll put your penalties to shame easily._

_That's big talk for a virgin who's never even seen a man's cock before._

He was teasing her, she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself from taking the bait. Impulse control was not her strong suit.

_Please, I'm not that sheltered. Even a virgin like me has seen a dick before. I mean, I haven't seen one up close and in person, but I do have a laptop and I know how to use the internet for more than just writing research papers._

She regretted it the moment she hit send. Why did she have to go and tell him that? Was she so desperate to prove she wasn't a kid she had to brag that she knew what a penis looked like? Oh yeah, Claire, you really showed him.

_Miss Redfield, are you admitting to watching pornography?_

Oh fuck.

… _not excessively. But yeah, I've watched a few videos. In the past. Who hasn't?_

She didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling like a pervert, wherever he was, enjoying the humiliation she had brought upon herself. Her cheeks were burning so much her skin should have caught fire by now. But mixed in with her shame was, to her shock, a little bit of lewd glee. She wanted to keep their conversation going as much as she wanted to escape from it.

_And while you watched these few videos, in the past, did you touch yourself?_

Claire squealed in embarrassment. God damn, Wesker was a dirty, dirty man! But he'd asked, so she'd answer.

_No, if I'm going to do that, I prefer to think up a fantasy in my head while I touch myself._

Which was true. She needed to think about Wesker to reach her climax and Wesker had never starred in any pornos, as far as she knew. And she'd have found them if he had.

_Why watch porn then, if not for masturbation?_

Hmm. Good question.

_For inspiration, I guess. Or research. I use it to figure out what I think I'll like in bed. What I'd want to do with the right person._

Wesker's replies were much more rapid now, leaving very little time in between responses. It came across as eager, a feeling she understood. Something in her reply had caught his interest.

_Tell me, what sort of videos do you look at when searching for…inspiration?_

Claire hedged her reply, too embarrassed to reveal her porn viewing habits.

_All kinds, I guess. Except the gross stuff, anything with bodily fluids or waste is a definite no for me. There are some kinks that just shouldn't exist._

_I could not agree more, dear heart. But you can't escape my question that easily. I want to know what turns you on. What secret kinks are you hiding behind your deceptive innocence? I'm an open man, sexually at least. There's nothing you could say that would shock me. You may even be surprised to find that we share some of the same desires._

She wanted to tell him, wanted that confirmation that he not only understood what she liked, but enjoyed it as well. That he was like her. But still she struggled to type the words out, to write the message that would expose her as a deviant. She wanted him badly and she definitely liked him, but she didn't know him well enough to trust him with something so personal.

Lucky for her, she was saved from having to answer him when Chris came home. And from the sounds of him stumbling through the living room giving a very poor rendition of an old Tom Waits song, he was drunk. Which meant that Claire was going to be spending the next hour taking care of him while he slurred, vomited, and eventually passed out on his bed.

_Sorry, Wesker. Chris just came home and he's drunk enough to need a babysitter, so I have to say goodnight._

_We'll continue our little talk another night then, dear heart._

_Wait, before I forget, what happens after the bet? How will we handle, you know, the penalty?_

For a while her phone was silent and she wasn't sure if he would get back to her tonight. She almost left her phone behind to go tend to Chris in the bathroom as everything he'd eaten that night came back up, but thought better of it at the last second and took it with her to the bathroom. As she comforted Chris, while reminding him that he'd sort of done this to himself, Wesker finally wrote her back.

_I'll pick you up Friday evening and we'll come back to my house. I'd like some privacy for what's to come and it will give me the chance to get to know you better away from any possible interruptions. Would you like that?_

Did he even have to ask? A chance to be alone with Wesker in his home? No bossy brother around to ruin her time with him? No shit she'd like that.

_Yeah. I'd like that very much. I'll see you Friday then. Night, Wesker._

_Sweet dreams, dear heart._

Speaking of bossy brothers, Chris looked like he had finally finished emptying the contents of his stomach and was now moaning listlessly on the linoleum floor, begging to be put out of his misery. She grabbed a clean washcloth and wet it with cold water, using it to gently wipe the sweat and sickness from his face. He was going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. Would he even make it into work?

With some difficulty, she managed to get Chris to his feet and together they made their way slowly to his bedroom, where Chris promptly fell onto his bed and refused to move another inch. Shaking her head, Claire took off his shoes and covered him with a spare blanket before grabbing a bucket to put next to his bed and a bottle of water with two aspirin to set on his nightstand. Knowing there wasn't much else she could do for him, she shut his door and went to clean the bathroom. He'd made a bigger mess than she'd feared and there was no way she could sleep until it was cleaned and sanitized. When the bathroom was once again spotless, she finally returned to her own room and went to sleep, dreaming of Wesker laying in his own bed as she took care of him in a very different way.

* * *

 

It wasn't until Thursday morning while she was sitting in Calculus that it really hit her. Tomorrow she would be completely alone with Albert Wesker. In his house. To fulfill a penalty. That was guaranteed to be erotic in some way.

She needed a new outfit for this.

All of her clothing was like her, plain and simple. Which was fine most days, but tomorrow would be different. She wanted to look special. For one night, she wanted to dress sexy, just for him. She didn't know what he had planned or if it would even matter, but she needed some sexier panties and bras at the very least. If not for tomorrow, then another day sure to come. It couldn't hurt to have some now that she was involved with the handsome captain. Claire didn't need to look into her dresser to know that she didn't have any sexy undergarments at all, since there hadn't been a need for any before now.

She'd have to visit the mall after school then for a little shopping. Which presented Claire with another problem. Claire didn't have a job, but she did have a checking and savings account since her brother gave her $200 a month for doing all the housework and cooking their meals. She usually just saved her money too, since she rarely needed anything. Money wasn't the issue, it was that her motorcycle was still in the shop having a part replaced and she'd need a ride to and from the mall. She didn't want Chris to take her, not when she knew she'd be shopping at a certain lingerie store that put your purchases in a distinctive pink bag. As soon as Chris saw it he'd hound her with questions and probably ground her for even thinking about setting foot in that store. No, Chris was definitely out.

But she bet that Jill wouldn't mind taking her. It wasn't unusual for her and Jill to go shopping together the few times that Claire needed clothes, so Chris wouldn't think anything of it.

_Hey Jill, I need a favor. Could you take me to the mall after school? I want to update my wardrobe a little bit and I could really use your opinion to find some new outfits._

She hid her phone under her desk before her teacher noticed her on it, taking down the notes on the board as she waited for Jill to reply to her text. A few minutes later she did.

_Hey Claire-bear, yeah I can take you. I could use a little retail therapy myself, work has been killer this week. Pick you up at the house after work? Say, about 5:30?_

_That works for me. Thanks, Jill!_

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and began to count the minutes until she'd see Jill and prepare for what she was sure would be a memorable trip.

* * *

 

5:30 finally came and 20 minutes later they were in the city's only mall. It wasn't huge, but it still had a decent amount of clothing stores for Claire to look in. Scouring the stores, Jill helped Claire look through the racks, curious as to what had come over her young friend.

"So tell me, why this sudden interest in updating your wardrobe?" Jill asked Claire, pulling out a top and holding it up near Claire before putting it back.

"I just want some clothes that make me feel more like an adult," Claire answered, trying for nonchalant and not quite making it.

"And the clothes you wear every day don't?" Jill giggled, "You have a great style, Claire, you shouldn't worry about trying to dress how you think others would want you to. Dress how you like, it's the attitude, not the clothes, that make you an adult."

Claire sighed. "I know that. I just want some outfits that are…sexier. You know, for parties and special occasions. Every time I see you when you go out with Chris and the others, you always look like a bombshell, Chris can never keep his eyes off of you. And I'd like to look that good sometimes. Not every day, but for the important stuff."

Jill was eyeing her critically now and Claire tried to discretely hide from her stare behind a dress display, pretending to be interested in the shiny green ensemble in front of her.

"Uh huh. And none of this has anything to do with a new guy, I'm sure."

"What?! No!" Claire was a terrible liar and she knew it.

Jill couldn't help but laugh at the panicked flush painted across Claire's face. It really was too cute.

"Come on, Claire, I was your age once. What's your boyfriend's name?"

"There is no name! I don't have a boyfriend! I just don't want people looking at me and only seeing me as teenager instead of a woman like you! That's all! No other reason! Damn it, stop giving me that look, Jill, I'm serious!" Claire's warning fell on deaf ears. Jill continued to grin at her like she knew Claire was full of it, but she decided to let her suffer for a little longer.

"Alright, if you say so…" Jill would get the truth out of her eventually.

After her very unnerving interrogation, Claire tried on a few things she had picked and a lot of things that Jill picked for her. Claire had to hand it to her though, she really did know what showed off Claire's figure best. Up at the sales counter, the young man scanned and bagged each item: a pair of black skinny jeans with rips along the front and back of where the jeans touched her thighs and calves and a fit that hugged her ass and legs like a second pair of skin that'd easily fit inside a pair of boots, a short fitted black leather skirt, a couple pairs of dark blue low-rise boot cut jeans, as well as another pair of black shorts, except these shorts were laced up on each side so a small line of skin along her hips could be seen. Jill had handed her a couple pairs of solid black cotton thigh high socks to go with the shorts, telling her they'd make her legs look amazing but she'd need to pick up some double-sided tape to keep them up.

Along with the bottoms, Jill had chosen several tops that she thought would emphasize her full chest and lithe torso. It was a good thing she and Claire had similar builds. One was a sleeveless fitted crimson satin top, Claire's favorite color, with a very deep sweetheart neckline and black lace diamond cutouts along the side seams. The next was a dark blue chiffon halter top with a small gold chain for the strap and small amount of gold and brown beading along the top, the fabric gathered along the low scoop neckline to give it a light and flowy look, but it was cut to closely outline her waist and hips. Claire had tried on a third top that she hadn't expected to love, but surprisingly did. It was a dark brown silk spaghetti strap with an overlay of chiffon across the bust. The straps were braided and they edged along the inner neckline to end at the crossover bust. The brown silk fit her perfectly and the brown chiffon crossing over the fabric beneath her breasts gave a triangular peek at the shiny cloth beneath. This top also had a very deep bust line, making her cleavage the main focus, so Jill warned her that she should pair it with a nice bolero jacket or shrug to save it from being too risqué. Still, it was flattering on her and she could tell it gave Claire that "womanly" feel she was striving for.

Claire may not be willing to admit to it yet, but Jill was sure that she was trying to impress a boy with her clothing, and she could relate to that. Besides, a few sexy outfits were harmless fun and if they gave Claire a boost of confidence when she wore them, then all the better. It's not like Jill didn't have a closet full of clothes specifically for holding a man's attention during a night out on the town. It was a step many young women took as they crossed that bridge into adulthood and she was just happy that Claire trusted her enough to come to her as she took that step.

Jill did have Claire try on some fitted long-sleeve V-neck and turtleneck shirts as well, reminding her that winter would be here in a couple months and she could still look sexy while covering up and protecting her skin from the cold. Claire took her advice and bought several of each shirt in a few different colors, since she liked the fit and they could be worn in any number of outfits.

It was as they were walking out of the store and towards the food court that Claire spied a leather jacket that stopped her in her tracks. It was a plain black one, clearly meant to accentuate a woman's figure with darts bringing in the material at the bust and waist. The inside was lined with something soft and warm and the leather felt supple in her hands when she tried it on. The lapels were wide, meeting to cross each other right below her breasts, a hidden zipper on the right side keeping the jacket closed without ruining the seamless look of it. The jacket came in at the waist and closely followed the line of her hip all the way down to the small of her back, where it subtly flared out at the top of her ass. It was comfortable and warm, but more than that it made her feel confident and sexy when she wore it, like an undercover badass. Understated elegance with a touch of danger. Unfortunately, it was way out of her budget. It was too expensive for her to justify buying it when she still needed to buy new lingerie. And it wouldn't be wise to drain her bank account in one shopping spree. Claire made a deal with herself that she would save up and if the jacket was still here when she had enough, she would buy it then.

As she took the jacket off and put it back on the mannequin, she heard Jill ask, "You're not going to buy it?"

Claire shook her head. "I still have one more store to visit and it's a little too much for me to afford right now. I'll save up my allowance and I'm sure I can come back to get it later."

"But you look incredible in it! And it might not be here, what if their inventory changes by then?"

"If it does, that's okay. It's just a jacket. I love it, but I don't absolutely need it, and I'm already spoiling myself buying all this stuff today."

Jill looked like she wanted to say something else, but after a brief pause she said okay, following after Claire as she led them to their final store.

"Claire, you cannot tell me that a boy is not involved if you want to shop here."

They were standing outside of Victoria's Secret, the store teeming with women of all ages, and a few unhappy husbands, all browsing the store's racy displays and picking through the clothing hanging off the walls. This was not a store that Claire had ever set foot in before and the sight of it now intimidated her.

"I really don't have a boyfriend, Jill, I just need underwear that Chris won't confuse for his whenever I do laundry!" But Claire was blushing too much for anyone to believe that.

"Your panties aren't THAT bad. Okay, if you don't have a boyfriend, is there a guy you're interested in then? I promise, I won't speak a word of this to Chris, I just want to know what's going on with you." Jill looked at her with big sister eyes, imploring her to spill her secrets to her.

Knowing it was useless to completely deny the truth, and because she felt a little bad lying to her friend, Claire gave in a little.

"There is a guy I'm sort of interested in. There's nothing really to tell though, I haven't been asked out or anything yet. But you know I've never really been interested in anyone before and it got me thinking, maybe it would be good to prepare for things like that. Eventually I could possibly start dating, maybe even have a boyfriend if the right man came along. And I want to try…to catch this guy's eye. Nothing will probably happen, this guy is way out of my league, but what do I have to lose?" Claire was suddenly engulfed in a hug by Jill, who shook her back and forth in unsuppressed excitement.

"Claire! This is so awesome, you're finally noticing boys! I never thought this day would come. I'd say this is a cause for celebration!" Jill finally let her go, but the huge pleased grin never left her face.

"You sound like such a mom right now."

"Ha ha, Claire, very funny. Come on, we're wasting time standing out here when there's naughty shopping to do! And no arguing with my choices in here! When it comes to lingerie, Jill knows best." Before Claire could protest, Jill had grabbed her hand and dragged her into the store, going straight for the section of the store not geared towards college girls.

In a word, Claire felt…overwhelmed. There were so many different styles of bras, panties, and lingerie. She'd never owned anything more than a couple basic no-fuss bras and the standard panties that usually came in a multipack. Those were not going to appeal to Wesker, he was a sophisticated man with taste. She didn't need to know him well to see that. From his refined poise, it was obvious. She wasn't that fond of that multipack underwear anyways.

Jill grabbed one of the store's black bags to hold the garments while she walked Claire through the store, pointing out items that she thought Claire would like that suited her style and personality. There was a sale of some sort going on, so Claire picked out a large number of panties, sticking with colors she was comfortable with: black, red, deep blue or green, even a dark plum one. She stuck to the styles Jill recommended for her. She had already liked the look of the cheeky and hiphugger styles, but it took some convincing from Jill for her to choose mainly from the thongs selection. Jill reassured her they weren't like the highly uncomfortable g-strings and that Claire would be glad she'd bought them once she saw how great they made her ass look in the mirror. She steered clear of anything with stripes, polka dots, writing, or patterns – Claire was not that kind of girl and never would be – and instead chose the ones that were seamless, strappy, lacey, all in solid colors. Since they were on sale, she decided to buy enough to replace all of her current panties. She might as well do the same for her bras, considering she only had three that she'd been wearing way too long.

The bras she chose were similar to the panties, nothing too decorative or flashy, much to Jill's chagrin. Jill could keep her cheetah-print bras, Claire wouldn't be caught dead in it. She wanted to push herself a little out of her comfort zone here, that was true, but Claire was still simple at heart when it came to her personal tastes. Jill allowed her to choose a few lightly lined demi bras without any embellishments from the PINK section in black, deep red, and white for everyday wear. But for those times when she wanted her bra to be seen, Jill helped her choose a few satin bras in black, dark red, deep navy, and silvery grey, all with a deep plunge so she could wear them with any of her tops. Some were decorated with a little lace or an overlay of mesh on the cups, others had cups with some kind of shiny fabric she couldn't name along the top edge of the cup. One had small shiny little fake crystals sewn on, scattered along the bottom edge of the cups and along the band. She'd let Jill talk her into it because it reminded her of the night sky. Half the bras were push-up, the other half lightly lined. When Claire had argued that her boobs were big enough to not need a push-up, Jill had told her to just trust her on this and she'd thank her later. So she'd kept the push-ups. Because she needed a new one anyways, she grabbed a black sports bra, pleased to find one that could firmly support her breasts without suffocating her in the process.

She was already exhausted with all the shopping when Jill handed her a black satin garter belt to try on, telling her that every woman should own at least one. It had a wide band and sat low on her hips. She paired it with some black sheer thigh highs with a solid black band at the tops and immediately agreed with Jill. She kept the garter belt and the thigh highs, adding a pair of thigh highs with a lace band at the top to her bag as well. She'd thought that Jill would take her next to look at the sexy lingerie, even though there didn't seem to be that many options, but Jill revealed that she actually preferred to buy lingerie for the bedroom at a few local stores that had a much wider selection of better quality lingerie than anything Claire could find here. She'd winked at Claire then and told her that there was a store she would take her to another day that had lingerie styles better suited to her... temperament. Claire had a feeling she was implying something about her, but she was exhausted and ready to go, so she let it be.

Jill was only buying a new bra with matching panties, so while Claire was waiting for the girl behind the counter to finish scanning everything she had chosen, Jill excused herself to go to the restroom to change into her new purchase for later. Too tired to question it, Claire said okay and told her she'd wait for her outside the store. When she saw the final price for her shopping, she cringed. It was more than she'd ever spent on undergarments before, but as she eyed everything and thought of Wesker's face when he eventually saw her in them, she decided it was worth it.

Jill was standing off to the side holding a long black box in her hands when Claire walked out of the store.

"Ready to go?" she asked as Claire approached.

"More than ready. I think I have enough panties to last me a lifetime."

Jill laughed at that and the two of them chatted excitedly about Claire's new wardrobe as they drove back to the house. When they parked in the driveway behind Chris' truck, Jill told her to grab the black box in the back seat and open it. Inside was the leather jacket Claire had fallen in love with at the mall.

Claire gaped at Jill, too stunned to do anything else. Her hands shook as she picked up the beautiful coat, feeling the luxurious soft leather against her fingertips. It was so expensive! Why had she bought it for her? She hadn't done anything to deserve it and it cost so much! She stared in shock at her friend, trying to form the words of gratitude swirling in her head, but she couldn't get her mouth to work.

Jill smiled at her in understanding. "This is my present to you, to celebrate you taking your first step into the world of love and relationships and everything that comes with it. I'm sure it's been hard for you, growing up in a house with your super male brother, and I know Chris can be a bit overzealous in his efforts to protect you, but it's only because he loves you. I know I've only known you for a year now, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you, Claire, and that you can come to me anytime you want some female advice or just someone to talk to about things you can't tell Chris. So if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to come to me, okay?"

Claire nodded rapidly, feeling both embarrassed and touched by Jill's words, and launched herself across the center console to wrap Jill in a hug, whispering thank you over and over. When Jill saw Chris peeking through the curtains of the window by the front door, she patted Claire's head to get her attention.

Even though they were in a car and he couldn't hear them, Jill still ducked down and whispered her plan to Claire, "Alright, now we've gotta get your stuff past Chris. So here's what we'll do: I'll distract Chris with what I bought," the girls couldn't help but snicker as they imagined Chris' reaction, "and you sneak everything into your room while he's preoccupied. Put the Victoria's Secret bag back in my car after you put your stuff away, because I don't want him to see it in the trash and throw a hissy fit. Got it?"

Claire gave her a thumbs up. "Got it."

They got out of the car, bagless, and Claire unlocked the front door with her key.

"Hey Chris, we're back!" She called.

"Hey, I was wondering when you two were going to come in," he said as he walked into the living room, wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, pretending like he hadn't been spying on them from the window a minute ago. He eyed their empty hands, curious why they didn't have any bags with them. "So what'd you get at the mall?"

"Oh, just a few clothes. You know, some pants and long sleeve shirts since it's going to get cold soon," Claire answered, trying not to act suspicious. "Actually, I think I left my bag in the car, so I'm gonna go outside and grab it. Thanks again for the ride, Jill!" Quickly, before her brother could say anything else to her, she dashed outside and waited by the door for Jill to distract her brother.

"Yeah, Jill, I really appreciate you taking her, you know how much I hate shopping," she heard Chris say.

"Oh it was no problem, you know Claire's like a little sister to me. Besides, there was something I needed from the mall too," Jill purred to him.

Claire peeked through the gap in the curtain covering the front window to see what was going on. And to see Jill's seduction in action. She considered it research, another part of her education, some new piece of knowledge she might be able to use later.

Chris must have caught on to the subtle mood shift, because his shoulders stiffened slightly and his eyes were a little wide.

"Oh, really? That's great. Glad it all worked out then," she could see Chris nervously gulp as Jill began to saunter towards him. It was hard to tell from where she was, but it looked like Jill might have been unbuttoning her shirt.

"Mhmm, would you like to see what I bought?" Jill went past him, swaying her hips as she walked towards the hallway to their bedrooms. She stopped at the entrance and let her shirt drop from her shoulders to pool at her elbows. She looked at him from over her shoulder, turning just enough to flash him the unlined white sheer lace bra Claire had seen her admiring in the store.

Claire had to smother her giggle with her hands as she watched her brother physically struggle with the decision in front of him, turning his head to glance between the front door and the temptation standing only a few feet away.

"Chris?" Jill's voice turned Chris' attention back to her. "I bought the matching panties too, but you'll have to come to your bedroom if you want to see those." Not waiting for his response, Jill sashayed down the hallway, disappearing from sight. Chris stared at the front door and debated his decision for all of five seconds before he was dashing down the hallway after her, almost knocking over the tall lamp by the hall entrance in his rush.

Claire briefly wondered if she was going to have to listen to Chris and Jill having sex while she stashed her new clothes, but pushed the thought away. Jill wouldn't do that to her. She hoped.

She ran back to the car and grabbed all of her bags and Jill's gift to her and quietly snuck through the front door, taking extra care to twist the knob so it wouldn't make a noise as she closed it. She carefully tiptoed towards the hallway, praying that she wouldn't hear anything from his bedroom. Surprisingly, she couldn't, but as she got closer and strained her ears, she did hear the shower in the master bath connected to Chris' bedroom running. She snorted at her brother's attempt to hide what he was doing, but was otherwise grateful she wouldn't have to hear any embarrassing noises coming from his bedroom.

She grabbed the scissors from the jar on top of her desk and cut the tags off the clothes, stashing the price tags and receipts in the desk drawer in case she needed to return anything later. She hung up the tops and bottoms she'd bought in her closet first. Then Claire opened the top drawer of her dresser and took out her old panties and bras, dumping them into one of the empty plastic shopping bags and tying it closed. She put her new and improved undergarments in their place and closed the drawer, making sure to throw the shopping bags in the trash on her way to hide the pink Victoria's Secret bag in Jill's car.

She'd expected a bigger challenge getting her secret purchases past her overprotective big brother, but it looked like Chris was no match for Jill and her wiles. Lucky for her. Now Claire had another challenge: choosing what to wear to Wesker's place tomorrow. Somehow sneaking the clothes past Chris seemed easier than deciding which ones would make the perfect outfit for her first visit to the home of her male fantasy, Albert Wesker.

* * *

 

It was Friday.

And Claire was trying to do breathing exercises discretely to stop herself from hyperventilating as she rode the public transit bus down to the police station.

It was really happening. Today was the day she'd been anticipating all week. Today she would bet against Wesker and see who came out as the winner. Tonight, in the intimate privacy of his home, one of them would be paying a penalty. A penalty that neither of them had revealed yet. A penalty that could be anything.

She got off the bus at her stop and ran up the steps of the station, walking through the front door. When she turned left to head down the hallway towards the S.T.A.R.S. office, the receptionist stopped her to let her know that the team was actually downstairs in the indoor shooting range at the moment and she should take the elevator to the right down to reach them.

That was interesting, she hadn't known they'd be holding target practice today. She thanked the receptionist and went in the opposite direction she'd been heading, pushing the button for the next floor down inside the elevator. Before she'd even reached the floor she could hear the loud rhythmic pop of a gun being fired. On the left was a door labeled Gun Range so she opened it and walked through. Alpha team was standing at a single station along a waist-high counter, a series of targets set in the large open area in front of them. The targets were situated at varying heights and distances in a constructed disaster scene, each target set with bullseye sheet at the head and torso.

Wesker acted like hadn't been expecting to see her when she walked up. The man was an actor too, add that to the list.

"Miss Redfield, what a pleasant surprise," he said, flashing her a cunning smile, "Chris hadn't mentioned that you'd be stopping by today. You're more than welcome to stay and watch the target practice, but I must ask that you put on some protective earmuffs while guns are being fired."

Of course, as soon as he said it Alpha team noticed that she was there and immediately abandoned practice to greet her. They asked the usual questions: how are you doing, school going well, ready for the weekend, etc., quickly exhausting Wesker's patience. He called them back to attention with a single harsh command, directing them to return to the shooting station and prepare for a marksmanship evaluation.

Claire heard Brad mutter, "Fuck!" under his breath and laughed as everyone did as they were told, checking their guns and reloading their ammunition. While the team was distracted, Wesker addressed Claire quietly without turning to face her, keeping his eyes on them.

"I assume you've already figured out what you and I will be betting on today, dear heart?" His voice was low and silky, barely above a whisper, but more than loud enough for Claire to hear him.

She gave him the barest of nods and from the corner of her vision she saw him smirk.

"You already know that Chris is one of the best marksman on either team of S.T.A.R.S., but Barry Burton is also an exceptional shot. So here is my wager: I bet that Mr. Burton will hit dead center headshots on all of the targets and achieve a perfect score during his evaluation today. Now, my dear, your wager?"

Claire thought about it. She'd heard that Barry was good, but he couldn't be that good. Chris had told her that his shooting scores had never been beaten or matched by anyone other than the devilish Captain himself. Then again, that was way back when he'd first joined S.T.A.R.S. It had taken him three months to move past the bragging phase after he'd been specially chosen for the team by Wesker himself. Had Barry gotten better since then? Wesker sure seemed confident in his wager, so maybe he had. But still…a perfect score? No, there was no way he was as good as Chris. This bet was hers, she was sure of it.

"Alright, Captain Wesker, then I bet that Barry will miss the center of one headshot and that…Chris will get a perfect score."

That through Wesker for a loop, a very brief one. The addition of Chris to her bet wasn't one he had anticipated, but it should be fine. It wasn't uncommon for Chris to shoot a perfect score, chances were good that he would be able to today.

"Very well, dear heart. Let's begin." He motioned for her to put on her earmuffs and follow him to the station where he was conducting the evaluations. Wesker nodded at Chris to start. Claire's brother took his place at the shooting line, carefully aimed his gun, and fired at the head of each target, the bullets leaving a perfect hole in the center of each bullseye. A perfect score, just as Wesker had expected. At least her brother didn't disappoint him in this regard. Chris pushed a red button on the wall of the station and the targets rolled forward to the shooting line, the bullseye sheets being released into receptacles along the shooting line, before being automatically rolled back to their spots. Fresh target sheets rose from the target base to replace the old ones.

Claire cheered for her brother, the siblings giving each other emphatic high fives as Chris moved to stand next to her and watch his teammates take their turns. Jill was next, shooting each target in the head either on or near the center of the bullseye, earning her a respectable score. Vickers and Frost both received acceptable scores, although both favored shooting the torso bullseye over the head, and Wesker made a mental note to assign them additional practice time at the shooting range next week.

Then it was Burton's turn to take his place at the line. His stance was solid, his grip on the handgun sure and steady. He took longer to aim than Chris or Jill, but each shot was perfect as he worked through the targets, until he reached the last one at the very back of the target area. Burton squinted his eyes, taking an extra 15 seconds to aim at this one. He fired and Wesker couldn't tell if his shot was off or not. He walked over to the receptacle for the target as it came forward to deposit the sheets, pulling the top sheet out. He took a moment to review the hole on the bullseye sheet before returning it to the pile.

He addressed Burton, but from behind his sunglasses no one could see that his eyes were focused on Claire.

"Very good shooting, Barry. But it looks like you were slightly off on your last shot."

The teasing he'd known would happen erupted around them. He could see Claire struggling to hide her excitement, so proud of herself for "winning" the first bet. And Wesker was happy, very happy in fact, to give her this victory. She would have so few of them after this.

Completely oblivious to Claire's barely contained exuberance a few feet away, Barry laughed and shook his head.

"Well can't say I'm surprised, sir, my eyesight isn't as good as it used to be. Let me tell you, you young whipper-snappers, getting old sucks."

"Oh come on, Barry," Jill teased, "You're the same age as Wesker here and he doesn't miss his shots! I think you're just trying to get out of extra target practice."

"Ha! You got me there, Jill."

Now that Jill mentioned it, Claire was curious about Wesker's shooting.

"Hey, Captain Wesker," Claire interrupted Jill and Barry's continued teasing, "Chris told me once that you're the only other officer to ever get a perfect score on the shooting range. Is that true?"

Wesker was quiet for a moment, before answering, "Yes, it is, Miss Redfield."

Feeling cocky after her victory, Claire decided to push her luck. "Care to prove it right now?"

Chris' neck nearly snapped as he whipped his head around to stare at his sister like she'd lost her mind, she had to have if she was purposefully trying to provoke his boss. The rest of the team was sporting similar aghast expressions on their faces.

Even Wesker looked mildly surprised, one eyebrow quirked above the rim of his shades. Claire smiled up at him innocently, as if she hadn't just openly challenged their commander, and everyone held their breath, waiting for his response. Chris just hoped he didn't lose his temper and throw his sister out. As a brother he wouldn't stand for anyone mistreating her, but he really didn't want to fight his boss either.

A devious smirk spread across Wesker's face as he accepted Claire's dare.

"With pleasure, Miss Redfield."

She shivered a little, remembering the last time she'd seen that look. It had been on Monday, right before he'd pinned her to the doorframe and whispered his dark promise against her lips.

Wesker strode up to the shooting line and pulled out his firearm from his hip holster. With perfect accuracy, and in less than half the amount of time it had taken Chris to finish hitting only the target's heads, Wesker fired at each target's head and torso.

A very different type of silence followed when Wesker was done. The kind of silence that says your team has just realized their Captain had been hiding his skill this whole time. Skill that was clearly superior to their best marksman's.

Claire finally broke it, but the simple words she uttered encompassed what everyone was thinking.

"Holy fucking shit."

Wesker should have been angry with himself, he had chosen to not show his true skill to his team for a reason. It served him better to let Chris be the star, as annoying as he was the boy had charisma and was well-liked by both teams. Allowing the others to believe that Redfield was Wesker's match with a gun was good for morale and a sufficient distraction away from Wesker. Now they'd be curious as to why he had hidden his shooting prowess, and Chris would likely sulk for the next week now that he knew he wasn't top dog on the range. That would make him even more unbearable than he already was. The boy was sure to test his patience with his pouting and he had enough to deal with already.

But Wesker found it difficult to feel anything but pride as Claire stared at him with open admiration. Why should he hold himself back in front of her when he wanted her to know that he was clearly better than the other men? It was only natural for him to enjoy impressing her with his expertise, to feel a smug sense of superiority as he commanded her attention away from the lesser males. He was looking forward to seeing her face when he demonstrated his many other exceptional skills for her in private. For now though, his dear heart would need to be punished for her little stunt. Let's see how well she handled being teased in front of others.

"Was my performance satisfactory, Miss Redfield?" His tone was entirely professional, but he watched Claire's face burn crimson at the innuendo lurking beneath the innocuous question.

Claire cursed to herself as she tried to maintain her expression. That bastard! This was his payback for putting him on the spot, he was returning the favor. Except this was worse, she'd heard the sexual undertone in his teasing and Chris was standing right there! Not to mention that the whole situation was turning her on, she was afraid someone would notice that her breathing was a little faster, a little deeper, and she'd crossed her arms to hide the peaks of her breasts that were showing through her bra and shirt. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and she wished she could rub them to ease her discomfort. And Wesker knew exactly what he was doing to her, the twitch at the corner of his mouth said it all. Ohh, if he thought she was going to back down from this, he was in for a big surprise.

"I'd have been more impressed if you'd done it holding your gun with only one hand. I'd think a man with as much experience as you have would be familiar with using only his right hand to fire his gun." Claire stared straight into his sunglasses, telling him with her eyes that he was in trouble. Virgin or not, Claire was a teenager and all teenagers excelled at hiding dirty innuendos in comments.

"Oh, really? I'm shocked, Miss Redfield. I wasn't aware you were so knowledgeable about how men grip their weapons as they're discharged. I'd be very interested to know how many men you've personally witnessed handling a weapon to be able to form such a firm opinion on the matter," Wesker replied, and there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, a minuscule smirk so smug that she didn't even think before firing off her retort.

"Well, Captain Wesker, I'm sure my number isn't anywhere close to the number of men you've supervised gripping a firearm. I admit you'd definitely know more than I would on whether or not men prefer to hold their gun with one hand or two."

The silence that followed was painfully tense. No one moved. Brad might have stopped breathing.

What had she just said to him?! Oh, Claire, now you've done it, there is no way he is going to let this go. 'I am in so much trouble now,' she thought in dread. What was wrong with her?!

On the outside, Claire appeared calm, her face a mask of polite indifference. But on the inside, she was shaking in fear of Wesker's impending retaliation. His face gave nothing away, but he had to be pissed.

As the seconds passed and Wesker said nothing, Claire's fear multiplied. Had she gone too far? Would he take her comeback as her trying to disrespect him in front of his team? She wasn't trying to be rude, he'd riled her up and she wanted to show him that when it came to teasing, she never held back. What if he changed his mind about playing with her now? She didn't want to think about that, he couldn't be that mad, could he?

But Wesker was far from angry. He was delighted. It had been a long time since someone had dared to get into a verbal sparring match with him and she had responded splendidly. Her sharp wit amused him to no end and he had to give her credit for not cowering when he'd subtly provoked her, instead rising to the challenge he'd purposefully issued in the presence of her brother. He'd wanted to see how she'd respond if she was unexpectedly put in a sexual situation, even if that detail was only apparent to her, while around her sibling. If she had been reluctant or even unwilling to respond to him, he'd have been concerned that she wouldn't be able to thrive as her conditioning progressed. But his Claire performed as exceptionally as he'd hoped, and she'd fired back at him with the same tact and insinuation he'd leveled at her.

It was unfortunate he couldn't show her how pleased he was by throwing her down right here on the floor and pulling down the tight jeans that hid her feminine folds from him. He would have expressed his satisfaction with her by licking and sucking on the sweet treasure between her thighs with his tongue and teeth until she was writhing below him as wave after wave of torrid ecstasy ripped through her. But pleasuring her would have to wait, he still had a ways to go with her before she'd be ready for what his mouth was going to do to her. She still deserved a reaction of some sort from him though, something to reassure her that he'd loved their banter.

If Alpha team had thought there was nothing that could surprise them after watching Claire and Captain Wesker sling badly-concealed insults at each other, they were wrong. Wesker, who had been silent after Claire's last taunt, suddenly busted out laughing. Wesker never laughed, and the few times they'd heard him chuckle had been right before he'd given them some unpleasant task to do. Wesker barely had a sense of humor. Yet here he was, laughing in front of the equally stunned redhead so much he had to look down at the ground with a hand over his mouth to try and stifle his mirth. This was more emotion than they'd thought he was capable of feeling. The laughter was short-lived, but it somehow left everyone more disturbed than the silence had. Everyone except Claire.

Claire was ecstatic. She had made Wesker laugh. In front of people! It was unheard of, an incredible achievement. The fear that had been eating away at her moments before melted away as she listened to his deep, luxurious chuckling and felt her heart warm. More than proud, she felt relieved that he wasn't angry with her. Maybe he was the kind of person who could appreciate her sarcastic sense of humor and sharp wit.

"Given the demands of my position as a commanding officer, that is more than likely the case, Miss Redfield. You have a quick mind, never lose that. It will serve you well in the future. Now if you'll excuse me for just a moment," Wesker turned and walked to the table against the back wall to retrieve the clipboard he'd left so he could record the team's scores. For most, the table would have been far enough away from Alpha team to be out of hearing range of their conversation. Wesker, however, had no trouble picking up their speech over the distance.

"So, Claire," Frost began, "Are you any good with a gun?"

"She is, actually," Chris interjected, always ready to brag about his little sister, "I taught her how to shoot myself."

Frost pretended to think for a moment. "So you must be a pretty good shot then, if Chris was your teacher. But I bet you aren't a better shot than me. How about you take a turn at target practice and if your score is lower than mine, I get to take you out for an evening of fun." Chris was immediately infuriated with the bandana-wearing upstart, not missing the suggestive tone in the air this time.

"What?! Hell no, Frost, not gonna happen!" Chris was yelling, pumped up with brotherly rage.

His demeanor gave nothing away, but Wesker was seeing red from where he stood. Wesker couldn't be so vocal with his own fury, he'd have to use other means to punish Frost for his grave mistake. Claire was his and he'd kill anyone who tried to touch her.

Frost was pushing his luck, he knew it, but after seeing the young woman go against their fearsome captain, he decided he wanted a little one-on-one time with the little spitfire. She was cute and friendly, he was sure they could have a good time together.

"Chris," Claire interrupted her brother's tantrum, putting a hand on his arm to turn him to face her, "It's fine. Let me handle this." She turned back to Frost, smirking up at him, "Alright, Jo, I accept your wager, but if I score higher than you, you have to pay the entire repair bill for my motorcycle." Claire wasn't worried about this bet, she was used to people, especially men, underestimating her. It would be gratifying to devastate his ego and get out of paying the expensive costs her motorcycle's maintenance had racked up at the same time.

Frost snorted, so sure of his victory. "Deal. I'm friends with the owner of the repair shop, so if you do manage to beat my score, he'll give me a deep discount on your bill."

'Get ready to wipe that smile off your face, Joseph,' Claire thought with impish glee. This was going to be fun.

"What's going on over here?" Wesker was striding towards them now, the irritation evident in his voice. "I walk away for two minutes and you're already causing problems, Frost," He let a little of the seething rage he was feeling slip into his tone, knowing the intimidating effect it would have on the man. He watched Frost shrink back a little, likely clueless as to why his commander was angry with him for making what he foolishly thought was a harmless bet with the younger Redfield.

"Nothing, s-s-sir. Claire just wanted to t-take a turn on the line and see if she c-could hit any of the targets…that's all." The imbecile was stuttering in his rush to make up an excuse.

"Excuse me?" Claire was immediately on the defensive at his implication, "I think you meant to say that I was going to show you the right way to shoot a gun, since you clearly don't know how to do it."

Chris snickered to himself, the Redfield was strong in this one. He pretended to cough when Wesker turned to look in his direction though. He did not want his boss redirecting his ire at him.

Since he too wanted to see how accurate her shooting was, and because he couldn't let Frost get away with undermining Claire just because of her gender, he agreed. Wesker didn't like it, but he decided to allow Claire to demonstrate her firearm finesse. His lady had a right to defend her honor.

Chris handed her his loaded gun and she took her place on the shooting line. Carefully, she aimed at her first target, choosing to start with the one standing the farthest to the left. Wesker listened as she took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. When she'd pushed the last of the air from her chest and out between her lips, her pointer finger twitched on the trigger. The violent pang of the gun echoed through the room and the bullet hit the bullseye on the target's head dead center. In rapid succession, she pointed at each target and fired, the ping of each bullet filling the previous silence with gunfire. Although her shots were aimed well, not all of them hit the center of the bullseye, but all of her shots hit the target's head and were within the first three red rings surrounding the center.

Wesker smirked as he did the calculations. Frost's score didn't even come close to hers.

"Congratulations, Miss Redfield. You've outclassed a member of Alpha team."

Chris' reaction was immediate, whooping loudly before sweeping his sister up into a hug to swing her till she was dizzy. He put her down when she'd had enough and practically skipped over to Frost to appropriately rub the loss in his face. It was an obnoxious display, in Wesker's opinion, but he tolerated it since the oaf was doing it for Claire. His eyes caught her and Jill slapping their hands together in a high-five as Barry patted the young woman's back, praising her performance the way a father would for a daughter. The rest of Alpha team were too busy razzing the humbled Frost, and he overheard more than one suggestion of Claire taking his place on the team.

Wesker shifted his attention then, all of his senses focusing solely on Claire now. He watched the way her eyes kept wandering back to him, discretely checking for his reaction, searching for a sign of approval. That she was actively seeking his admiration fueled his desire for her, intensifying the possessive passion he felt. Her eyes kept returning to him because only his opinion of her mattered and it would be his word that left her elated or crushed.

He would give her what she needed, always. "Your skills are most certainly noteworthy, Miss Redfield." Wesker's tone was a mix of polite interest and reasonable appreciation, his words said for the benefit of the team, but his smile was all for her and she heard the message he intended underneath the words. The smile said that she had made him very happy just now. She responded with an equally polite thank you, but she couldn't hide in her eyes what his praise was doing to her. There was heat simmering beneath the blue, the grey flecks scattered across the irises shining from the fierce pride that burned in her chest.

Claire didn't understand why Wesker's simple praise made her feel so amazing, but it did. She heard Jill and Barry's honest compliments, her brother's exuberant celebrating, and it made her happy, but the joy they gave her was muted compared to the euphoria triggered by Wesker's silent approval. She couldn't see his eyes, but she didn't need to, she could feel the intense weight of his stare. The slight cock of his head as he looked at her like she wasn't just plain old Claire Redfield, like she was intriguing. What would she need to do to see him look at her that way again?

There was a shift somewhere, just outside the peripheral of her vision. She couldn't really see what it was, but all the same she knew that something was being displaced. She couldn't turn to look for it either. The weight of Wesker's attention held her in place, had her waiting for him to do something. Speak? Move? What? For a second, his gaze robbed her of her senses and she felt lost when she looked away from him, her world only stabilizing when she brought her eyes back to his and surrendered to the pressure that commanded her. 'Just give in,' it said. To what? 'To him,' it replied. She wanted to, but something was holding her back. She was stuck behind bars, a door, a gate, all locked with no key in sight. 'I can't get free,' she thought in panic. 'I'm trapped,' she tried to tell Wesker through the haze. 'No,' Another voice answered, familiar and unknown, 'Not trapped. Safe. Protected.' Then whatever had come over her passed. The sudden departure left her disoriented and she shook her head to try and clear it, breaking her eye contact with the blonde. What the hell had that been? Some kind of Jedi mind trick? Weird.

She did feel sure of one thing though. Something that should have alarmed her, but didn't.

It made her feel very, very good to please Wesker. The kind of good that could easily become an addiction if she wasn't careful. Like a drug, the high she got from that look felt incredible and she wanted to feel it again.

Hearing Wesker speak again was jarring after the mental hijacking Claire had experienced. But if Claire looked like she was out of it, no one seemed to notice.

"Practice is over, I expect everyone to return to your desks and finish the paperwork that should have been submitted to me before we came down here. Do not leave until that's been done. If I check my desk at the end of the day and one of you has neglected to turn in your documentation, you will all pay for it during PT next week." Someone muttered "fuck that shit" but Wesker wasn't entirely sure which one of them had said it and it wasn't worth his acknowledgment when he was trying to get rid of them. When Chris went to take hold of Claire's arm to bring her with him, Wesker stopped him, "Go on, Chris, I can walk your sister back upstairs after I collect her target sheets. I'm sure you'd agree that she deserves a souvenir to take with her for her achievement today and if you hadn't been goofing off earlier, yes I saw your antics I'm not blind, you'd have been able to get them for her yourself. Now get going, Redfield, I think you've put off your paperwork long enough," Wesker's command was firm and left no room for argument. Chris had no choice but to grumble on his way out the door, cursing his own procrastination this time. If he'd done his paperwork earlier instead of trying to steal and hide Jill's beret, they could have left and gone home. The others filed out the door quickly, eager to be done with their work so they could start their weekend.

Wesker finally had Claire alone. Or as alone as they could be in a building full of police officers and noisy clerical staff. They were alone enough for what he intended to do. No one else had any reason to come down here, he'd purposefully scheduled the team's target practice for the last time slot of the day, and Chris wouldn't be done with his work for at least half an hour, if not longer. Plenty of time for Wesker to play with his sweet vixen.

Claire's eyes followed him as he circled around her slowly, silently, his eyes always on her. There was a stiffness in the way she was standing that said she was also aware that they were alone and she was nervous. So very, deliciously nervous. A dark chuckle made her pulse jump in her throat and her breathing pick up speed. It excited him to see it. He wanted to take advantage of her heightened state to toy with her nerves, to bind her further to him while the fear left her open and vulnerable. He'd made progress with her earlier, he'd seen the moment she'd been completely in his thrall, and while she had escaped from it for now, he was sure he could capture her again. He wouldn't allow her to get away until he had.

"Dear heart," He purred from behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, squeezing the muscles there until he heard her gasp, "Although your shooting is commendable, your stance is sloppy. That more than anything is evidence of Chris' tutelage, as your brother has never understood the necessity of proper form when using firearms. If you would please," he leaned down to whisper into her ear, lightly nipping the sensitive lobe with his teeth to make her gasp for him again, "go stand on the line and take your stance again. I will correct your form," his hands trailed down to her elbows, the pressure from his fingers leaving her skin tingling as the blood that had been forced away as his hands slid past came rushing back, "and show you the proper way to stand when holding a deadly weapon in your hands."

His voice had dropped to a rumbling timbre towards the end, taking on a husky quality that belonged in a bedroom. Or somewhere darker. It made the muscles low in her belly squeeze tight, trying to hold onto something that wasn't there, had never been there, but that she desperately needed to be there. Claire swallowed hard and he watched her do it. But she couldn't move yet, she'd forgotten how to use her legs.

"Don't you want me to educate you, Claire?" he murmured against her throat when she still hadn't done as he'd asked.

"Yes," she said, but it came out as a whimper and she felt Wesker chuckle against her skin.

"Then don't disobey me. Go stand on the line. Now." He took great pleasure in giving her a firm smack on her ass, watching her jump as she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning when she felt the sharp sting on her bum. But she didn't hesitate to obey him this time, walking somewhat unsteadily to stand again where she had been earlier. Her small hands picked up the gun that had been left, probably by god damn Vickers again, and she assumed her shooting stance.

The stance was decent for the most part, only a couple of flaws to fix. His hungry eyes took her in, noting the points that would need to be adjusted, but also enjoying the view of her from behind. Her ass was fantastic. Wesker's approach at her back was like a wolf closing in on a cornered doe, meant to incite fear…and other things. His steps purposefully loud enough to be heard, the quiet echo of his boots getting closer and closer. He took perverse delight in her nervous shifting as she strained to hear him as he stripped the leather gloves from his hands. Instinct was warring with logic inside her, she felt the predator stalking its prey, the warning that it was a mistake to keep her back to him, but she stayed put like a good girl. At another time, another place, she would be his prey again and she would listen to the instinct that told her to run as he hunted her and claimed his prize when she failed to elude him.

Wesker took his position directly behind her, bending his much taller frame over her slightly so he could press himself intimately against the line of her back, letting his heat sink through her clothes to caress her smooth skin. He gripped her hips and abruptly pulled them back hard to collide with his, almost groaning at the feel her plump ass flush against his semi-hard erection. The stimulation caused his cock to twitch and by the sound of her trembling gasp, he knew she'd felt it. 'How far could he push this?' Wesker wondered, although the consideration was a false one, the decision to take it farther had already been made.

Knowing he was aroused by all of this, by the feel of her against him, excited her, Claire was ashamed to admit. The thought of what someone would think if they walked in and saw the S.T.A.R.S. Captain and her in such a suggestive position with the evidence of how very happy he was sitting snug between her backside made her feel a little slutty, but the fact that she was responsible for him being this turned on made her feel powerful, like a sultry femme fatale. Irresistible. She'd never felt that way before. It was incredibly gratifying and the embarrassment that had plagued her melted away. Just to see his response, she tilted her hips up and back down once to rub his cock along the line separating her cheeks. It was her turn then to hide a wicked smile when he hissed, sucking in a sharp breath between his gritted teeth and tightening his hands on her hips in reflex.

She was testing how much she could get away with too, it seemed. Wesker liked that, it added to the satisfaction he'd get when he overwhelmed her with experience. The naughty minx needed a reminder of who was in control here. She could grind her luscious ass invitingly on him all day, an idea he was seriously considering now that he'd thought of it, but he would always have the upper-hand when it came to physical pleasures. He'd been doing this a lot longer and, unlike her, he had zero reservations when it came to sex. And that would always give him the advantage in their little game.

Wesker released his grip on her hips to slide his hands down further, feeling along the front of her jeans, dipping down into the hollow of her pelvis, taking care to avoid touching her folds and remain along the bikini line. His hands stopped there for a moment, just letting himself feel her quivering underneath his hands, listen to her heart racing in anticipation for him to reach out to skim a finger across her needy sex. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his hands grab her between her legs and cup the heat there. Which is why he wouldn't. Instead his hands skipped past it to slide around the inside of her soft thighs. Even though she was shaking as he groped her everywhere he pleased and pressed his hard cock into her, she didn't pull away. She wasn't uncomfortable with his hands prowling her body. Claire may as well have begged him to do what he wanted to her when she pressed herself back harder against him. There was a point to this exploration beyond playing with her though, Wesker needed to get back to the task at hand.

"Your legs need to be farther apart," he instructed the redhead first as he pushed out against the inside of her thighs, forcing her to widen her stance. Not satisfied with the distance, he dragged his nails up the inside of her thighs and growled, "More." She whimpered sweetly and did as he demanded, but her stance still wasn't wide enough. Wesker decided to try a different approach to coax the last few inches out of her. "Almost, dear heart. Now show me what a good girl you are and spread your legs nice and wide for me." That did it, her silence broke as she moaned aloud for him. There was no resistance now when he positioned her legs in the correct placement.

"Just like that, love, very good," Wesker murmured, relishing how responsive she was to him. It had been effortless for him to overstimulate her with nothing more than his light touches. He hadn't even played with her breasts or pussy yet, but she was already well on her way to an orgasm. The temptation to drag a finger up her slit and give her that final push to cum while her body was pressed so hard against his rigid member was overwhelming. He resisted the urge to finish this too soon, running his hands back up her thighs, past her honeyed sex, up across her toned stomach. One of his hands stayed here, the fingers spread wide just above her sensitive mound. The other continued on to part her pert breasts as his hand passed between them, the supple globes cradling his wrist between them. His palm lay flat against the skin under her throat, the thumb and pointer finger resting on each side of her graceful neck. His long fingers massaged the skin underneath them as he pushed her back against him, straightening her posture in the process.

"Don't lean forward so much when you aim, it puts too much weight on your leading leg. Angle yourself towards your target only slightly, so your weight distribution remains even, but keep your core tight," those torturous fingers pulled up her shirt to tickle the skin below it, "and your shoulders back."

He paused, deciding what to do with her. Wesker could either push her limits a little more and see what happened, or he could play it safe and let the lesson end now. The choice was clear. "Now I want you to feel how you're standing, right now, memorize all of this, and next time you shoot I expect to see you standing in this exact position." He leaned down so he could nuzzle her neck, his words a low, sensuous omen in her ear, "If not, I'm afraid I'll have to discipline you until you can get it right. And I'd very much enjoy doing that." He bit down without warning on the point where her shoulder met her neck, just hard enough to feel the muscles below tighten as she threw her head back and silently screamed, her voice robbed of sound by the rush of sensation from the orgasm Wesker's bite had triggered. At that moment, Claire fell under Wesker's power again and she saw nothing, heard nothing, tasted and smelled nothing, but she felt all of Wesker inside her. He looked down at her, seeing that lost glazed look he loved on her beautiful face, and he smiled, the expression dark and wolfish. She had done very well. He was satisfied with her progress...for now.

Bit by bit, he would push her to new breaking points and strip her of the fragile protection she'd built inside herself, fracturing her resistance and exposing the weaknesses so he could slip inside the cracks he'd made and infect her mind and heart with him, like a virus. She looked so peaceful gazing up at him right now, like he was all that existed to her. That look would fade as her mind came down from the dopamine high he'd induced in her, but seeing it for just a few moments renewed his vigor. It was a sign that she was not only vulnerable, but predisposed to what he had planned, that his influence was beginning to take root in her because the soil had already been prepped by her. It would be quite some time before the metaphorical seed he was planting in her psyche would show proof of growth and sprout, but he would make sure to tend it night and day to ensure his success.

Pressing his lips in a tender kiss to her forehead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lightly squeezed again, not for domination this time but to soothe and comfort her as she came down from the orgasm he'd given her, helping to ground her again with his presence.

"Dear heart?"

"Hmmm?" was her only response.

"Be ready for me to pick you up near your house by 7 tonight and I'll take you to my home. You can give me your penalty there." When she nodded drowsily, still a bit out of it, he turned her around and wrapped her in his embrace, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms as she wrapped her own around his waist. It felt good to have her there, almost calming. He felt her draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she sank into his hold and allowed herself to completely relax against him.

"I'll be ready," she answered dreamily, and with a final squeeze he let her go, watching her as she flashed him a demure smile and walked out the door to go back upstairs. She'd forgotten her target sheets, but he could get those to her later. It was odd though. Wesker wasn't usually a man that enjoyed affection, but it had felt...unpleasant to lose the warm sensation of Claire held so solidly against him as she let herself go and gave in to his embrace. She seemed to respond positively to it as well, if the way her eyes had lingered on him as she left was any indication.

As he walked the shooting line collecting the target sheets for Claire, he considered it.

Perhaps it would be advantageous for him to incorporate more affection into his conditioning. If it would help him secure his hold on her heart, he would do it. There was nothing he wouldn't do to have her surrender to him.

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**_Again, I'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter! And if you're wondering where the good smut is and what the penalty will be, it's in the next chapter. It won't take me long to get chapter 3 out, considering it's already written and I just need to finish editing it during the review process. But it's even longer than this chapter. They just keep getting longer…_ **

**_Please review, it really does help! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, but the next part is the one you really don't want to miss._ **

**_A quick reminder: check my profile for any updates on where I am in the writing process. I update the note at the top regularly to keep readers informed of when they can expect the next chapter to come out._ **

**_THANK YOU!_ **

 


	3. The First Penalty

**The Penalty Game: Chapter 3 – The First Penalty**

**_A/N – This chapter is the real starting point of Wesker and Claire's sexual play. I have no idea how well this chapter will be received overall... We're starting to get into the BDSM-esque territory now, but it's mainly just sexy fun between Claire and Wesker. There is a reason I have written Wesker and Claire the way they are, trust me, it will become apparent later on and make sense why I did it this way._ **

**_WARNING: The REAL naughty fun between Wesker and Claire begins now, so if a 37 year old dominant Wesker doing dirty things with an 18 year old virgin Claire bothers you, I recommend you stop reading. If you don't, please don't take it out on me in a review. It only gets naughtier from here. I'm all for constructive criticism, but please don't write a whole review just insulting me and the story. It's okay if you don't like what I write, it's not for everyone. I will gladly take feedback meant to improve the story, other authors have given me great feedback that I try to incorporate, but bashing me or my work doesn't help me improve it. Please remember that if you choose to review._ **

**_WARNING: Because someone may not like this, there is underage drinking in this chapter, (I swear I'm not shouting this) LET ME BE CLEAR: CLAIRE IS HAPPY AND CONSENTING TO ALL ACTIVITIES, SHE ISN'T DRUNK WHEN THEY HAPPEN (she's just a little tipsy). WESKER DID NOT PROVIDE ALCOHOL TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HER. I don't want anyone worrying, I promise it's all good._ **

**_***Story location: There's some debate on where Raccoon City is in the U.S., we only know it's in the Midwest. As a reference point for me, Raccoon City will be near Springfield, MO, since the Ozark Mountains are nearby.***_ **

**_(Side note: I saw a picture on DeviantArt of a book excerpt where Wesker hits on Claire to Chris. It's the Code Veronica book. I thought it was photoshopped, so I got the book and, I shit you not, Wesker really says to Chris: "...tell me, is your sister good-looking? Do you think she might be interested in getting some action, because I've got a hard-on like you wouldn't believe..." He likely said it to piss Chris off, but I laughed so hard I died and came back to life. I'm pretending its canon evidence of his interest in Claire, if you consider the books as canon. I haven't read it all, so I don't know if Wesker hits Claire up with that offer later.)_ **

**_Enjoy chapter 3, please review afterwards! Your reviews inspire me and keep the creative fire burning!_ **

**_Obligatory "I don't own anything related to Resident Evil or Capcom" statement. I do, however, own the plot and any original characters included in the story._ **

 

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Claire rode the elevator back upstairs, still trying to shake the fog permeating her brain. She felt drugged almost. But it felt nice, like slowly waking from a wet dream, where you're conscious but still partly in the dream. Maybe Wesker really was intoxicating for her.

What was that in there? Had he really...and she hadn't even... Claire groaned. So much had just happened in such a tiny space of time, she still couldn't process it. But she wasn't afraid, although she was more than a little confounded by the experience. There had been fear in her when he'd circled and stalked her from behind, but the fear had added to her enjoyment, everything had felt heightened to her senses. Claire decided to head home rather than wait a couple hours for Chris to finish work and she waved halfheartedly at the receptionist as she walked outside to wait for the bus, still deep in thought.

For a brief moment, when he'd been walking around her, like a cat playing with its food before it ate the mouse, she had considered running, just so he'd be forced to come after her. But her rational mind had reminded her that she was in a police station and that what she was imagining would not end like she hoped. Then Wesker had spanked her ass and even bit her shoulder, god she couldn't even begin to think about why that had felt so wonderful, and he'd been as domineering as she imagined he was with his unit, taking control of her body with his own and bossing her around. And where had her fire been?! The infamous Redfield temper?

Normally she balked and furiously fought against being told what to do, but with Wesker...it had felt natural and reassuring to submit to his strength, to bow to his will at that moment. Rather than disturbing her, it had triggered a sense of peace, as if she had nothing to fear, except him, because he would protect her as long as she behaved. That thought alone should have sent her screaming for her brother. If Claire ignored what she thought she should have done, she could admit that it had been kind of sexy...and it made her feel somewhat better that she'd still felt her mischievous streak tempting her to disobey him, just to see what he'd do. It might feel natural to submit to his dominance, but that didn't mean she always would.

The bus approached her stop and she moved like she was on auto-pilot, boarding it and paying the fare from the coins in her pocket before taking the closest empty seat. There was a warm breeze from the open window, it wouldn't get really cold for another two months. Autumns in Missouri were colder than the ones she'd experienced when they'd lived in Florida two years ago, but the humidity seemed to be about the same in both places. A gross, muggy heat even when it was only 70 degrees outside. Claire was glad she'd be getting her motorcycle on Monday, but was not looking forward to wearing her biker jacket during the months when the heat stuck to her skin as she rode it.

When he'd threatened her with punishment, which begged yet another question on why that had turned her on instead of pissing her off, her immediate desire was to test him at the next opportunity, to purposefully make a mistake in her stance and force him to follow through with his warning and punish her. It was wrong, or was it? She should have been upset at the direction of her thoughts, but she wasn't. But that didn't mean she had to admit to herself and accept that she wanted him to punish her. Nope, she was going to keep denying it. That was not a road she was ready to go down yet.

She was a normal girl...wasn't she? But the spanking had made her feel so hot...that was pretty normal, right? She was somewhat sure no one would think it was weird if they found out she had liked it when he spanked her. Yeah, lots of people liked that, it was fine if she enjoyed it, it didn't mean anything. As for the other stuff...she'd think about that later. She needed to go home and shower now if she was going to have time for her hair to dry before 7. And she still needed to figure out how she was going to get out of the house without Chris getting suspicious.

Fuck...why did she have to have a paranoid cop for a big brother?

 

* * *

 

It turned out she didn't need to worry about getting past her brother. He wouldn't be home to discover she'd left to spend the evening alone with his boss, because he was going out bar hopping with his teammates. He wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.

"You sure you'll be alright here by yourself?" Chris asked for the fifth time as he got ready to go.

"For the last time, yes! Go out, have fun! You worry about me too much." Claire was lounging on the couch, watching the clock as her brother took his sweet time leaving. But it wasn't like he was doing it on purpose, he didn't know that she also needed to get ready for her own evening of fun.

"It's my job to worry about you, Claire," he reminded her as he glanced up at the clock and realized he was running behind, "Shit, it's almost 6, I need to go. Call me if you need anything, you know the drill, and I will see you in the morning. Love you!"

Then he was finally out the door and driving away. Claire waved from the window as he passed, then darted for her bedroom. She ripped open her closet to go through her new clothes, agonizing over her decision of what to wear. It occurred to her as she looked through her closet that she should probably text Wesker to let him know that her brother wouldn't be home and he could pick her up at the house.

'Thank god he decided to go out tonight, now I won't have to sneak out or make up a lie just to leave for a few hours', Claire thought to herself as she sent her message and turned back to her closet. Since she knew they'd be doing her penalty tonight, she felt comfortable showing off a little skin and choosing a more daring outfit to wear while alone with the gorgeous police captain. Since her penalty was a mild one, Claire would tease him this way, by allowing him to look, but not touch. It gave her a sense of dark satisfaction to have control tonight. For it to be her turn to leave him frustrated and wanting as she stoked the flames of his arousal. The circumstances made her feel powerful and aggressive and she wanted her clothes to reflect that. Her clothes would be her costume if her confidence deserted her later, so she could at least pretend to play the part of the femme fatale.

Claire slipped on the crimson blouse over one of the black pushup bras she'd bought earlier, along with the black ripped skinny jeans. 'Jill was right about the pushup bra, Wesker's not going to be able to look away. They look so...bouncy,' she thought with a giggle, poking the tops of her breasts to watch them jiggle. Yup, she was glad she'd trusted Jill.

A pair of black leather knee-high Frye boots that folded over at the knee helped complete her new look. They reminded her a little bit of pirate boots, but she loved wearing them, they were super comfortable to walk in even with the two inch heel, and she'd noticed her stride naturally took on that womanly sway when she was in them.

Although she didn't normally use makeup, she did own some for special occasions, or for when her skin wasn't cooperating with her. She didn't put on much for tonight. Just enough mascara on her lashes to give them some volume and curl and a touch of eyeliner to fill in her lash line without giving herself a defined line along her eyelid. Adding a hint of blush to her cheek bones and a swipe of rose-tinted chapstick on her lips, she pronounced her makeup done. She wanted to look put together, but she didn't want it to be obvious she was wearing anything on her face.

As a side thought, she grabbed the bottle of Tresor Midnight Rose perfume that Jill had given her for her 18th birthday, because every woman should have a signature scent she'd said, and spritzed a little on the insides of her wrists, rubbing them along the crest of her cleavage and behind her ears to spread the fragrance. It wasn't something she would have bought for herself, she didn't really care about that super girly stuff, but when she'd first sprayed some in the air to test the perfume, she found that she loved the fragrance enough to want to wear it. The scent of raspberry and black currant, with hints of cedar, musk, and vanilla, made her think of silky decadent desserts enjoyed in a dark candlelit room where the shadows of its occupants flickered and danced along the stone walls. She equated the scent with wicked and sensual desires, and wore the perfume often, especially on the days she might see her brother's handsome boss.

Staring into her bathroom mirror now, Claire worried about what to do with her hair. Which was really weird for her. Claire never cared about her hair before, but tonight she did. Usually she wore it up in her standard no-fuss ponytail. But if she was going to take the time to put together a nice outfit and put on a little makeup, she could do something with her hair. Private time with Wesker wasn't a gift she took for granted.

The ponytail was too simple for the outfit. But wearing it down didn't look right either. She did have a curler she occasionally used to give her hair a little extra style. Another girly item she hadn't bought for herself, it had been left by one of Chris' ex-girlfriends who had never come by to pick it up, so Claire had claimed it. Waste not, want not. After some debate, she decided to lightly curl the ends of her hair, brush the curls out when they'd cooled, and twist her hair up with a black butterfly clip securing it midway up the back of her head. Her hair was long enough that half of it fell over the top of the clip to curl gently on her shoulders. She left her bangs free to frame her face and gave her reflection a once over.

Claire was…surprised. Shocked, really. Was that really her in the mirror? She looked...sexy and older, like a woman in her 20s instead of a high school senior. How could a few small changes make her look so different? Staring back at her was the woman she wanted to be, someone who looked like she belonged next to Wesker because she could just as easily stand on her own.

Wait, what time was it? She was suddenly anxious for him to see her, to watch the expression on his face as he took in the sight of her. Would he think she looked as fuckable as she felt?

Checking her phone to see that it was almost 7, Claire thought, 'I guess I'll find out in a few minutes.' She pulled on her new leather jacket and zipped it up, stuffing her keys and phone in the pockets. The jacket did an amazing job of hiding the contents of the pockets without ruining the sleek look of it. Pulling out the keys long enough to lock the deadbolt behind her as she left, Claire hopped down the porch steps right as a black Jaguar XJ pulled up and parked in the driveway. It could only be Wesker, but how the fuck could he afford a luxury car on his salary?

Police captains must make a lot more than she thought.

Wesker stepped out the vehicle, looking casual in his dark blue jeans and black V-neck sweater. And sunglasses. So even at night he wore his shades. Was it a style thing or did he just like the mysterious flair it gave him? Or maybe he used it as a form of intimidation, to hide his eyes so you couldn't see what he was really thinking. His clothes were more distracting than the shades. The way the sweater clung to his torso made Claire almost jealous of it, the fit did nothing to hide the defined muscles of his arms and chest. And the jeans? They fit like they'd been made especially for him, like a seamstress had taken the time to contour the denim so it sat snug on his hips, tailoring the front so it clung to his groin and the bulge she saw there. She was pretty sure he wasn't hard right now, so the size of bulge gave her a very generous clue of what she had to look forward to. The fit wasn't as tight around his legs, but the jeans still showed off the toned definition of them.

Satisfaction was hers though when he stopped moving upon setting eyes on her standing in the light of the driveway. He reached up to tilt his sunglasses down, the action probably for her benefit, and visibly took her in over the rim of his shades. Yup, she was feeling pretty damn hot right now.

"Dear heart, does your brother know you're leaving the house dressed like that? If you go out looking like a walking male fantasy, someone may snatch you up and ravish you senseless. I'm certainly tempted to." From the scorching heat burning in his eyes, she wasn't sure if he was kidding. The possibility filled her with a wicked pleasure, and a little fear.

His Claire smiled at him and played coy, looking down at his boots when he let her see the naked lust she'd spurred in him. But she liked it, he caught her when she glanced back up to meet his stare with her own timid desire. The knowing smirk he flashed her had those eyes darting down again, the blush spreading across her cheeks tempting him further.

She cleared her throat to disguise her embarrassed flush. "Lucky for me, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself," she answered, unknowingly displaying her age to him. There was a moment when a sinister thought crossed Wesker's mind, an impulse to demonstrate to her how naïve her confident statement was in a city where rape was, unfortunately, not an uncommon crime and not every man could be judged on how dangerous he was by his appearance alone. The thought was gone as quickly as it came, he had no desire to scare her tonight and he knew she could hold her own against the average guy well enough. On another day, he'd address her irresponsible view of her chances against unknown dangers from a professional standpoint and leave the learn-by-experience method for other lessons.

Ever the gentleman, Wesker guided her with a hand on the small of her back to the passenger door, opening it for her so she could slide onto the smooth leather seat. He walked back around to his side and got in, checking to make sure that she had her seat belt on before he pressed the start button on the dash. The engine purred to life under his hands and he smoothly pulled back out of the driveway and took off down the dark road.

Claire was silent as he drove, her hands balled up in her lap. Nervous, he guessed. She should be, dressed like she was, practically inviting him to throw her down and have his way with her. He hadn't been expecting her to come out looking like lust incarnate and he was beginning to wonder if being alone with her was a wise decision.

'I may not let her leave tonight…or ever. Not when she comes to me dressed like she wants me to lose control, the little minx.' He cast a sideways glance at her, admiring the sinful vision seated next to him.

The lightly tanned skin of her ample cleavage surrounded by the crimson top looked luminous and full in the moonlight streaming through the tinted window. The leather jacket she wore fit her like a glove and he was glad she seemed to share his love of leather. The leather boots were also a nice touch. Her jeans hugged the delicious curves of her thighs in a tight embrace that he knew would make them difficult to take off quickly. He could always tear them off, he supposed, it's not as if they weren't torn up already. Personally, Wesker didn't understand this trend among youth towards buying damaged clothing, but he could somewhat see the appeal as the rips in the black denim teased him with tortuous glimpses of the soft flesh beneath. He imagined her in bed with him, his face in her lap, tracing the edges of those rips with his tongue.

"Are you hungry, Claire?" Wesker asked, startling her so badly she jumped in her seat. His voice seemed to echo in the quiet interior of the car.

"Food does sound good right about now," she answered after a short pause, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, and the subsequent danger she was putting herself in. All the better for him.

Wesker laughed in the dark and watched the shiver that crawled over Claire's skin. Her body's unbidden responses excited him, feeding his male ego. He wanted to see it again, her involuntary reaction to just his voice.

"I wasn't talking about food, love."

The sweet sound of her gasp, a sharp intake of breath, was sensuous music to his ears. A devilish smile formed on his lips. How he loved to toy with her, her innocence made it so easy. Wesker would never tire of this game they played.

Claire was silent for a moment, her rapid heartbeat like a drum inside her chest. He waited in anticipation. She licked her soft lips unconsciously, wetting them with a swipe of her tongue, and turned her stormy eyes to look at him.

She whispered, "Only around you," like she was telling him a dirty secret and she didn't want god to overhear.

The chuckle that passed over his lips after her confession was deep, dark, and sinful, leaving no question as to what he was thinking about when he reached over with his right hand to squeeze the top of her thigh, his fingers playing with the rips on her jeans in the same fashion he planned on using his tongue to play with her weeping slit. His hand started at her knee and gradually moved up as her arousal spiked. Fingering each tear. One finger rubbed the skin revealed at the top of the tear in small circles and short up-and-down strokes, two fingers widened each opening to expose more of her skin, dragging a nail lightly up and down the middle to stimulate her, three fingers tracing the outside and center of the opening he'd spread. His hand didn't stop teasing her until he had her audibly panting in her seat, her breasts spilling out along the edges of her blouse with each deep breath as she gripped the edges of the seat in an effort to control her squirming.

Pleased with the state he'd put her in, Wesker hummed in dark satisfaction.

"Good."

That one word hung in the quiet between them, and for a moment Claire was sure she would suffocate from the pressure in the air, the interior oppressively heavy from the heat of their bodies and the unspoken promise of things to come.

With a dark smile, he gave her thigh one more possessive squeeze before putting his hand back on the steering wheel.

The rest of the car ride was spent in charged silence. Claire trying to calm the painful ache between her legs. Wesker watching her squirm in her seat through his peripheral vision as his cock twitched in response. Each time the urge to touch her again became too great, he would remind himself that they would be at his house soon. It was going to require all of his self-control to stop himself from picking her up as soon as they walked through the door, carrying her into his private bedroom, and throwing her down on his bed where he could fuck her till they collapsed from exhaustion.

'As delicious as it would be to spend the evening taking her in every way possible, that would not be wise, I want more than one night of carnal pleasure with her,' Wesker pointed out to himself. He would have to wait a little longer before he could slake his lust for her inside Claire's sweet form.

Wesker lived on the opposite side of town, about a twenty minute drive from the house that Claire and Chris shared. It was populated mainly by the upper middle class, the homes typically featuring large amounts of land between neighbors to give the houses the illusion of privacy and reclusion. Claire had only ever driven through the area on her way to the Arklay Mountains, where she enjoyed hiking occasionally and relaxing by the deep river that ran through the area.

As they pulled into the long curving driveway, Claire was once again struck with the question of how Wesker could afford so much luxury. She couldn't ask him directly, it would be rude, but she still wondered. Did he come from a wealthy family? Considering his perfect etiquette, publicly at least, and the distant, dignified manner in which he conducted himself, it seemed likely.

"Wow…" Claire breathed, "You sure your place is big enough? This can't possibly be enough space for just one man."

Wesker just laughed quietly at the sarcastic joke she'd cracked and Claire turned her eyes back to the magnificent house in front of her.

His house was spacious, done in a modern prairie-style, and much larger than she'd expected for someone who lived alone. Although it seemed excessive, Claire could admit that she thought the house was beautiful with its rectangular architecture and clean lines. It suited the man sitting beside her. The two-story exterior was a mix of dark wood sections and white stone under a dark flat roof. Each floor featured huge frosted windows framed with black metal that reached from the floor to the ceiling, the glass somewhere between opaque and translucent, giving only vague blurry outlines of the interior.

The landscaping was like something she would see in a magazine, the kind that had to be maintained by a landscape design service. A raised garden bed bordered with smooth white slate ran along the sides of the house, the surface of the garden bed covered in small black stones and clusters of trimmed Russian sage and grayish green sedum. Three square raised beds of the same design, sitting maybe half a foot above the ground, were placed in a straight diagonal line among the thick green grass of his front yard, the bottom right point of the top square touching the upper left of the middle square, with the bottom square mirroring its brother. The middle square had deliberately been chosen to be larger than the other two. Claire could see all the beds clearly, even in the dark, thanks to the hardscape lights installed under the inner and outer lip of the stone beds. Large white square stones, set with a small well light in the middle of and in between each step, formed a path from the driveway to the front door. Between the lights in the garden and on the stone pathway, and the recessed accent lighting along the outer edge of the roof, sneaking up on Wesker's house would be impossible. Hard to hide when the entire yard is illuminated in a soft white glow.

When they entered the foyer, Claire was immediately hit with the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat, distracting her from looking around. Had Wesker cooked dinner before leaving to pick her up?

"What is that amazing smell?" she asked, slowly unzipping her jacket as she tried to identify the flavor hitting her tongue each time she breathed in.

Wesker smiled as he helped her slip her jacket off and hung it up in the small entryway closet. "That, my dear, would be the meal I've prepared for us." He slipped off his sunglasses and put them on the floating shelf by the door, next to his keys and wallet. While she was distracted by her surroundings, he took the opportunity to appreciate the view of her slim figure without the leather jacket in the way. Redfield, the surname was appropriate for his beautiful obsession. Red really was her color, it enhanced the ruby tones in her hair and highlighted the natural glow of her tanned skin. She looked particularly ravishing in shades of crimson. Wesker approved of the black lace detailing on the blouse she'd chosen to wear, only because she wore it in the privacy of his home and only in his presence. The pattern of the lace treated him to tantalizing flashes of the smooth skin below it. If she was trying to seduce him with her scandalous outfit, she was succeeding.

"You can cook too?" She sounded so shocked, was it really so strange to her that a man could cook? Perhaps it was, Chris didn't seem to possess many skills outside of combat.

At his nod, Claire eyed him appraisingly, "Is there anything you can't do?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Very few things."

"You sure you're human, Wesker?" She teased, finally relaxing after the pleasurably torturous car ride.

Strictly for her amusement, and because he enjoyed teasing her, he stopped and pretended to seriously ponder the question. "Last I checked I was, but I'll be sure to let you know if the status of my humanity changes."

She snorted at his joke and quipped back, "I'm gonna hold you to that."

The foyer was connected to what she guessed was the main hallway of the house, and they could have gone left, right, or straight ahead to reach a different part of the house. Wesker led Claire straight from the foyer through the open doorway ahead, entering the dining room to see he'd already set up two places on the small, intimate dining table in the center of the small room. The room was painted a beautiful dark blue, with bright white trim. Most of his home seemed to have dark hardwood floors and they went well with the blue of the room. There was a large square chrome-framed mirror on the wall and that was all the decoration in the room. Four tall black leather chairs were placed around the table, two of the chairs set close together so there would be very little room in between the chairs' occupants. The round tinted glass top was centered on a single wood leg, a solid ebony-stained base that split open, like the petals of a black lily, to support the top. In front of the two chairs that were clearly meant for them to use tonight were black placemats with white square plates, folded black cloth napkins, and the standard silverware. To her shock, each placemat also had a tall wine glass halfway filled with a dark red liquid she assumed was the alcoholic beverage the glasses were named for.

"Why, Captain Wesker," Claire purred, tracing a finger along the rim of a wine glass, "Isn't it against the law to provide alcohol to a minor?"

He smirked and reached for the wine glass she was touching, lifting the glass to rest against her bottom lip. He leaned down and held her gaze over the top of the glass, and his eyes said what his mouth didn't: that he didn't give a fuck about the rules of the legal system because here, in his home, he was the law and he would do whatever he pleased.

"I won't tell if you won't," he murmured into her ear softly, adding another secret they would share. She imagined it was a phrase that would be spoken between them a lot in the future. The jolt she felt in her sensitive core at that thought was so intense it hurt. She wanted to feel it again.

He watched her slowly bring her hands up, their skin touching, not nearly enough for him, as she tipped the glass back and took the first forbidden sip. 'So innocent,' he thought, 'So ready to be corrupted by me.' Wesker let go of the glass and walked into the connected kitchen off to the upper left of the room before she could read the look in his eyes. He wasn't ready for her to see how much he wanted her. The intensity of it would scare her, because she didn't know yet what it was like to burn for someone so much it mutated into a physical need, something as essential to life as food or water, a craving that had to be satisfied just to survive. No, she didn't understand it. He smirked. Yet.

When he returned to the dining room, his hands were carrying two wide, shallow bowls filled with the dinner he'd cooked especially for her. It didn't escape his notice that she had already drained half of her wine glass in the brief interim of his absence. That was peculiar, she must be feeling more nervous than he'd originally gauged. What about her choice had her so on edge? He was quite curious now as to what she wanted him to do for her. Or to her. Whatever it was, it was stressing her out enough that he grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, making a mental note to track how much wine she drank and limit the amount if necessary. He didn't want her anxiety to consume her before the main event, but he also didn't want her getting drunk. A few glasses over the course of the evening, partaken with a decent meal, shouldn't compromise her ability to think and make decisions for herself.

"I hope dinner is to your liking," Wesker said as he gently placed one of the large bowls in front of her before taking his seat at her side, "I assumed a steak salad would be a safe choice for our first meal together." Claire's heart skipped a beat at the words "our first meal together". Was he planning on there being more?

"You assumed correct," she replied, inhaling the delicious aroma with an appreciative sigh, "It smells delicious, and steak just happens to be one of my favorite foods. I really wasn't expecting this, Wesker. Thank you." Not even in her most imaginative fantasy had she ever considered the possibility of sitting down to a home-cooked meal from Albert Wesker. The night had just started and she was already blown away.

"Claire, I meant it when I told you I'd like to know you better. You're an intriguing young woman. And taking the time to learn more about one another will create a greater intimacy between us that will…enhance our experiences together. I wish to know your mind as intimately as I'll know your body." Her pupils dilated, this was exciting her, and he smiled, dropping his voice an octave. "I want to remove any barriers between us. And you can help me do this by tell me about yourself, your past, your likes and dislikes. And eventually, your secrets. Everything that makes you who you are. And I'd like for you to know me as Albert Wesker, the man, not just as the leader of S.T.A.R.S. or your brother's boss. Would you like that too?"

All she could manage was a nod as she stared up at him, hypnotized by his icy blue eyes.

"Well then," he began, "Shall we start with the basics? Where are you from? When I scouted your brother, he was living in a different state. Florida, was it?" Truth be told, Wesker knew very little about his subordinate beyond what Barry Burton had shared when he'd recommended the dishonorably discharged soldier to join S.T.A.R.S. And that hadn't been much.

Claire launched into her explanation as they started eating, nearly moaning when the steak's flavor hit her tongue. He'd grilled the meat to a perfect medium rare while still managing to sear the steak with just the right amount of char to give it that smoky taste she associated with all grilled meat. And the salad was better than she'd thought it would be. She'd never had steak and salad together as one dish, but it was delicious. Whatever this dressing was, the best she could come up with was that it was a creamy vinaigrette, but he must have chosen it solely for the fact that it paired wonderfully with the steak, highlighting the savory while still giving the dish a fresh zing that lit up her tongue as she ate.

She appreciated how all the different elements of the salad created a whole sensory experience: the crunch of the romain lettuce and croutons, the pungent aroma of the parmesan cheese shavings, the salty hints of bacon crumbled over the top, the smooth texture of the thinly sliced avocado a stark contrast to the soft disks of grilled squash as she chewed, and the mildly spicy kick of jalapeño hiding somewhere among the chopped leaves. This was the best fucking salad she'd ever eaten, how could a SALAD be this good?! She wasn't sure she'd be able to enjoy the simple caesar salads she occasionally made at home after this. Great, Wesker had ruined her for salads and it was only the first dinner.

In between enthusiastic bites, she described the city she'd grown up in, the important moments in her childhood that she thought might interest him, leaving out the part about her parents passing away, and then she told him of all the different places she'd lived after moving in with Chris. He listened as she told him of how the siblings had had to move around a lot because of Chris' training and Air Force assignments. That they'd only been living at their last apartment for six months when he got in trouble and was discharged. Then they'd moved to Raccoon City less than two months later when Wesker hired him. Wesker was attentive as she talked, asking the occasional question when something she said caught his interest.

As Wesker watched her, he saw the hesitation, the slightest stumble in her words, when she brought up moving in with Chris after he had finished boot camp. She was omitting something important, that much was clear. He wanted to know what she was deliberately trying to conceal from him.

"Claire, why did you move in with Chris when he returned home?" Her hands started trembling, rattling where they rested on the table. But she didn't notice them, her gaze was fixed pointedly ahead. Then he saw her lip quivering and knew he'd stepped into unpleasant territory for her. Something had happened, he surmised, something traumatic. Too difficult for her to discuss right now.

"It's alright, dear heart," he spoke softly to her as one of his hands began to stroke her back, "You don't need to say it. I can see that it hurts you to remember or talk about it. You can tell me another time. When you're ready."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with the pain of her memory.

Why was she apologizing? Who had given her reason to believe she should apologize for not discussing a time in her past that still tormented her? This would not do.

Wesker gripped her chin gently with his other hand, shifting her face to look at him with those wide, tear-rimmed eyes. "Do not apologize when you've done nothing wrong. I understand what it is to have memories that you cannot voice. I have many. I would never force you to tell me that which you can't and you should not feel guilt because of it." There would be times later that he would hurt her to cause her pain and she would enjoy it as much as he did, but this was not one of them. The look in her eyes was too raw, he needed to soothe the hurt he'd unintentionally inflicted if he wanted her to enjoy the rest of her time here.

Wesker let go of her chin and leaned forward to kiss her forehead softly, letting his lips linger there. "Tell me about Chris as a child. Was he as ill-tempered then as he is now?" He  _really_  didn't want to talk about her infuriating and annoying brother, but he was aware that the two of them were close and she likely had many fond memories of him that would distract her from the one she couldn't discuss.

He pulled back to show her he was paying attention, the hand on her back still rubbing the tense muscles in comforting circles. It took some time, the memory that haunted her was strong enough to slow Claire's response. Patiently, something that took tremendous effort on his part, he waited for her to find a memory worth mentioning. Once she did though, it didn't take long for the wounded expression to be replaced with one that reflected the nostalgic humor she was feeling now as she told him of the time her brother had done something stupid and she'd come save him, only for her to then get into trouble of her own that Chris would end up having to rescue her from. The more she shared, the more he noticed that this seemed to be a common trend in the Redfield family. Given his intentions for the future, this was bound to be a troublesome thorn in his side.

Their conversation shifted to other harmless topics, like how she enjoyed to spend her free time, her postsecondary education plans- the usual questions - and his free hand drifted to her lap, idly toying with the naked skin he could touch along the length of her thigh. Her eyes would flash whenever he brushed a particularly sensitive spot, her lashes fluttering as she tried to keep her thoughts in order, even as his fingers skimmed so close to her throbbing sex and robbed her of coherency. When she was discussing, her voice a touch rougher from the lust he had incited coursing through her blood, her favorite music, movies, sports, shows, anything that she was interested in, she mentioned chemistry and biology as her favorite subjects in school. Something they shared, a rather significant common interest.

She admitted, blushing in embarrassment, that she had looked for information on him online - just out of curiosity, she'd said, as if she needed to defend her actions - and had seen that he had several degrees in those fields. It was good for Wesker that her interest in him was so strong she had taken it upon herself to find out more about him. The more preoccupied Claire was with him, the easier it would be for her to accept who he really was and what he intended to do later.

His fingers drifted higher and higher as she talked, but he wouldn't allow his hand to touch where he knew she desperately wanted him to. It was amusing to see the frustration flit across her expression each time his hand brushed close enough to feel the heat emanating from her apex only to move it away again. Poor Claire, how unfortunate for her that he had no intention of giving her what she wanted for some time, but he did intend to tease her mercilessly until then. That was half the fun for him. He dragged his nails lightly along the line where the skin of her thighs and hips creased, down to the inside of her thigh. He palmed the flesh there, applying pressure as he slid his hand back down to play with the underside of her knee.

He loved that she tried to ignore what he was doing to her, how she pretended his touch didn't affect her when it so clearly did. It excited him, he wanted her to fight against what he was making her feel as much as he wanted her to submit to it. Nothing made his blood burn hotter than seeing her struggle as she fought her body's reactions. To know that she would lose, that she knew she would lose, even as she continued to try and deny his influence.

The thrill was in the chase, in the act of forcing pleasure on her, even though she was willing, manipulating her body and her head into begging for him because he was just that skilled. Because his masculinity overpowered and demanded her femininity answer it, changing her mind with just his touch. It was a primitive desire that moved within him, the need to prove he was alpha male and bring his bitch in line. But evolution had refined that desire and combined it with the love of the hunt, the compulsion to demonstrate his dominance through constant challenge, and the need to take care of his woman and provide for her needs. To use a phrase he had heard Claire mutter once, it was a confusing clusterfuck. Nonetheless, it was a need that had to be satisfied.

'Keep fighting it, dear heart, even as I corner you and cut off any chances of escape. Fight how much you need this, pretend you aren't thinking of my cock inside you as I take what's mine. I see your silly attempts to conceal how wet you are and how much your body aches for me right now. You don't understand why you do it yet, but soon you'll see. You resist because you love the struggle, because you want me to pursue you harder. You desire for me to overpower you and prove I'm worthy. As luck would have it, you and I want the same thing, for you to be conquered even as you resist.'

Claire downed another glass of wine and let her head fall back. Wesker's fondling felt so very, very nice and she was feeling the initial signs that the wine was working, taking the edge off her nerves. She'd never been drunk before, since she was underage and Chris had never allowed her more than a couple sips of wine from his glass on really special occasions, like her 18th birthday when everyone else was drinking and she couldn't, or at the last New Year's Eve party. But she didn't think she needed to have been drunk before to know that she definitely wasn't drunk right now. Her head was still clear and she didn't have the urge to vomit or sing old blues songs, but she did feel a pleasant buzz and she might have been a little more talkative than usual now.

Wesker's hands explored her thighs and back, driving her mad with lust and invoking more than a few fantasies that involved her taking his hand and forcing him to put it where it belonged on her body. Naughty bastard, that's what Wesker was right now, turning her on with his groping everywhere but where it would have felt best! But then again, she liked the teasing too, it felt so fucking good to be teased and denied over and over. Strangely, she didn't want that to stop. But she didn't want to be stuck with nothing more than teasing caresses forever either.

So she acted, or tried to anyway, like Wesker fondling her wasn't a big deal, like she could take a little petting without losing her mind or her clothes. In her head, Claire was showing him that she was just like any other woman he'd been with and she could handle fooling around with him by attempting to feign a level of experience and control she didn't have. Maybe it was a bad idea to be trying so hard to convince the older man of something she herself wasn't even sure was true, but she didn't want him to be turned off by how new all of this was to her. Not when she wanted him to be the one she did them with.

All she'd ever heard from the guys she knew, and from the hushed conversations the boys in her study hall period would have in the back of the room, was how annoying it was to be with a virgin. Virgins were boring. Virgins didn't know what they were doing, they had to be taught and that was a pain. So she was worried that she would disappoint Wesker in some way and he'd move on. That was her reasoning for the nonchalant front she put up while he played with her thigh. So he'd see that she wasn't going to run scared at every little thing he did to her. If Claire had known that Wesker was thrilled that she was a virgin not yet tainted by the influence of other men, that he very much enjoyed the prospect of teaching her the pleasures of the flesh, she would have saved herself a lot of stress.

When she finished eating, somehow managing to not make a fool of herself during the meal, Wesker cleared their plates and took them into to the kitchen. He left the wine glasses behind. When he returned, he was carrying a different bottle, a dessert wine he told her when he caught her perplexed stare.

He looked her over for a second, a sly look in his eyes. "Would you like to move to the living room? The couch in there, I believe, would be more comfortable for the rest of this evening's activities." The silky tone of his voice seduced her with a hidden message embedded in the words. It wasn't hard for her to pick up on the implication in his slow deep drawl, that it would be easier to lay her down on a couch than a chair. And it was difficult to argue with that logic, because it would be. But would they need to lay down for this? Maybe? Hell, she didn't know, she couldn't get her dirty mind to move past what it would be like to have Wesker laying on top of her on this couch he spoke of. Naked.

When Claire blushed a deep red, it wasn't entirely from the wine.

"Okay." She agreed.

The snake must have smiled at Eve as he led her down the path of temptation the way Wesker smiled at her now, holding out his hand for her to take. Was he the snake? Would he lead her down that same path, ruining her so she could never return to paradise just like Eve? What was that paradise though, besides a location? Ignorance? How could ignorance be bliss, while knowledge was power? Were those her options, happiness or power? That seemed wrong. Too simple. Power could bring happiness, just a different kind. An impure kind, perhaps, but it was still happiness. So what did she want? The happiness of the pure or the happiness of the damned?

Claire reached out and put her hand in his without hesitation. She made her choice. The choice to follow the snake. He picked up the wine glasses in the other hand and led her back out to the foyer and down the hallway on her left. His grip on her hand was firm and warm and her fingers folded around his automatically. It felt nice to hold hands with him. There was a rightness to the gesture she couldn't ignore.

They passed several closed doors on the way down the hallway, but two in particular stood out to her. The first was the only door that had its own hallway branching off from the main one. Almost all the doors were a rich mahogany with chrome door handles, but the one down its own hallway had a deadbolt locked with a key above the door handle. The other door that stood out was the one at the very end of the main hall. It was completely different from all of the other doors so it stuck out like a sore thumb. The odd door out was a metal one, maybe steel, with electronic locks controlled by a keypad. Curiosity pushed her to investigate both doors, but it looked like she'd have to be nosy another time. They were at the opening leading into the living room.

The whole room was brightly lit from the recessed lighting scattered across the ceiling, casting shadows from the furniture on the deep red walls. There was a three step drop down solid white marble stairs onto the plush grey carpet, the kind that looked textured and felt heavenly soft under your feet. The living room was large and open, a beautiful grand piano sitting off to the upper left on a floor with a three-step landing made of the same white marble that stood at the room's entrance.

The piano sat opposite a midsize stained hardwood bar. It was set into the corner with an assortment of hard liquors lined up on the tiered glass shelves against the wall, a row of lowball crystal glasses sitting atop the bar's matching cabinet below. Off to the right of the room's entrance was a long sectional couch, covered in black leather that would no doubt be very comfortable to lay on. The cushions were the deepest she'd ever seen on a couch, the cushions were deep enough for two people to lie next to each other and still have room between them. So they'd have even more room if they were on top of each other. Could probably get a roll or two in before they'd fall off of it. Where was she going with this...?

In front of the ridiculously accommodating couch was modern-style granite coffee table with a rectangle of glass set in the center of the top and a hollow middle for storing books and decorative accent pieces. Call her crazy, but Claire was beginning to suspect that Wesker liked modern and contemporary styles. The true star of the room was the tall, white marble fireplace below the huge LED flat screen TV mounted on the wall. The inside of the fireplace was clean, so it had to be a gas one. Instead of the typical fake wood stack that every gas fireplace seemed to have, Wesker had chosen to line the bottom of the fireplace with a layer of smooth black stones evenly stacked on top of each other. The best feature though was the reflective glass covering the interior walls. Probably coated in something that allowed it to withstand the high temperatures of the nearby fire. The glass would behave like an infinity mirror and reflect the dancing flames across each other, giving the fire the illusion of depth. The effect must be amazing to see.

"Sit down," Wesker ordered as she stared at his fireplace, "I'll join you in a moment."

While she did as he'd asked, or rather commanded, Wesker put the wine bottle and glasses down on top of the bar and moved over to the fireplace to light it. Her fascination with the unusual interior design was plain as day and he was more than happy to show her the feature she was clearly dying to see. The flames bursting to life after two clicks from the ignition and she gaped in awe as the flames reflected across the mirror-like walls. He didn't fault her for her reaction, it was an impressive sight to see. As a last touch, he turned a dial on the wall next to it, dimming the lights low.

Turning on the fireplace had more than one purpose besides impressing Claire, it also assisted him in setting the mood. The shadows of the flickering fire danced on the walls as the heat generated from the flames gently warmed the large room. A cozy, sensual ambiance surrounded them as Wesker watched her from where he stood. His smoldering gaze stayed on her as he crossed to the bar, not even glancing down when he pulled the cork out of the wine bottle and poured a full glass for each of them. Claire felt her own burning desire stir as he came towards the couch. Her panties were already uncomfortably wet from dinner and she wished she could take them off. The moist fabric was keeping the heat from her overstimulated sex trapped against her skin and no amount of rubbing or shifting had been able to release it.

His steps were slow and calculated, feeding the suffocating anticipation building in the room. This was what they had been waiting for all week. They were totally alone, there would be no Chris coming in right as the tension between them peaked, no interruptions to cut their time and fun short. He had her in his home, sitting in his living room, on his leather couch, with her cleavage on full display for him, and she was aroused and willing. Claire was completely at his mercy now, and from the rapacious gleam that had passed through his slit-eyed stare as it roamed across her body, she knew it. She shivered in the warm room and his smirk was all Claire needed to know that he saw it, that he liked it.

'Too late to run, even if I wanted to,' Claire thought as she took the wine glass he offered her and sipped deeply, draining a quarter of the sweet liquid in one gulp. The taste was very sweet, much sweeter than she figured it would be.

"Wow, this is really good. The flavor is so different from the first wine. What is it?" Claire hadn't really liked the first wine, it had tasted too strongly of alcohol, but it had helped calm the chaotic turmoil inside so she'd ignored the alcoholic taste and just swallowed it.

Although she had asked the question, the answer really wasn't important to her, her inquiry was nothing more than an attempt to procrastinate as she tried to gather her resolve again. The feeling of the cushion sinking down as he sat next to her really wasn't helping that. He angled his upper body to face her as he leaned back against the couch, laying his lean muscled arm along the back of the couch to rest directly behind her, crossing one of his long legs over the other.

He was the picture of ease, the embodiment of smooth seduction. Claire looked like a paranoid rabbit as she sat upright beside Mr. Suave, spine rigid and straight, shoulders way too tense. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the situation, or that she didn't want to be alone with him. The problem was that this was all unfamiliar to her and she didn't know what she was supposed to do or how to act.

'You could try acting natural, Claire, that's always a good choice.' Ha. Yeah, easier said than done.

How could she act natural when she was sitting here next to a man so beautiful he could have been the brother of Adonis. She couldn't remember how to even act natural when she was so terrified she was going to fuck this up. Was this how women felt when they went on their first date? Not that this was a date or anything. 'God damn it, woman,' she internally yelled, 'What the hell is wrong with you? Get it together!'

Where was her bravado now? Since when did Claire Redfield turn into a meek little mouse just because she was in a new situation? She'd faced thugs with more bravery than she was displaying now. 'Just relax and be yourself with him,' she imagined saying to herself, 'stop thinking and you'll enjoy this. Let yourself go.' That...actually helped a bit. Another sip of wine soothed the anxiety even more.

A warm, cozy sensation spread through her, starting at her head going all the way down to her toes. Why not let go with Wesker? Was that so wrong? And wasn't the whole point of this little game of theirs to have fun? That's right, they were just having fun, nothing wrong with having fun with the gorgeous captain sitting next to her. She liked him, he liked her, it was all good. Claire leaned back against the couch to rest her head against Wesker's arm. His skin was so warm, almost hot, and the cushion was luxuriously soft and firm at the same time. Something was pulling lightly on her hair and Claire realized it was Wesker's hand playing with it. Once the shock of Wesker touching her hair had abated, yet another thing she hadn't expected, she hummed in open approval of the glorious contact. His fingers running through her thick locks, curling the ends around them, was putting her in a state of languid bliss that she didn't want to ever end.

Wesker smiled as he took a sip from his own glass. "That is a Cabernet Franc ice wine. Very different from the red Cabernet Sauvignon we enjoyed with dinner. The harvesting process and location of the grapes is what accounts for the distinct change in the sweetness and undertones in the flavor when it hits the tongue."

What was he talking about now? Oh, right, he was answering her question from before. Whatever it was that she'd asked, probably nothing important. He took another noticeably smaller sip than she had. Because he didn't have any reason to be nervous. Not like her. All the pressure was on her tonight. She unconsciously focused on his lips and throat as he took the time to fully appreciate the flavors of the wine, observing the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"So," his deep, cultured voice interrupted her ogling and brought her attention back up to his eyes, "Are you ready to tell me the penalty for your victory today?"

'Nope. Not in the slightest. Maybe. Probably. Fuck it, just tell him and stop being a goddamn pussy, Claire.'

"I am," She answered reluctantly, "but you'll probably think it's silly."

'Exactly what a virgin would come up with,' Claire grimaced.

"If it involves you in any way, I most certainly will not. I've been anticipating this night all week and you, my dear, are teasing me with all this stalling."

Claire could do this. She was a Redfield. Redfields never backed down, fear could not stop them. A little more liquid courage and she'd be good to go. In one gulp, she drained half of the remaining wine in her glass and set it down with a loud clink on the coffee table. She wanted Wesker, wanted this. Claire had been waiting for a chance like this for far too long to give up now. The alcohol coursing through her blood gave her the burst of bravery she needed to confess what she wanted from him for her first penalty.

"I don't know if you remember everything I told you on Monday," She began, making a point to give him full eye contact, committing to her decision, "I mentioned something important before you pressed me up against the door and said some very naughty things to me. By the way, what you said ended up in more than a few of my dreams this week. Have I told you that I love the way you talk?" She giggled in manner that was somewhere between salacious and bashful and Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her. Yup, the wine was definitely hitting her now, helping her loosen up finally, "Sorry, I'm getting distracted, you're very distracting." She abruptly laughed at herself again and Wesker couldn't help but grin, amused by how very relaxed she'd become. As cute as her demeanor was and as much as he was loving her openly flirtation, he was cutting her off from the wine for a while once she finished what was left in her glass. Wesker wasn't going to risk her crossing the line from happily buzzed to light inebriation.

Claire twisted to face him as she continued, "You probably knew this already, but I've been majorly attracted to you since the first time I saw you. Chris had just started his new job at the RPD and back then I would wait for him out in the hall, on the bench across from the office door. One day, it may have been a Thursday I can't remember for sure, I was there waiting and I heard this huge boom, like a door being slammed. And then you came storming down the hallway looking absolutely furious, scaring the receptionist and terrorizing any of the officers that didn't get out of your way quick enough. I don't know what you were so pissed about, but you were like this unstoppable force of barely contained violence, imposing and powerful and sooo sexy."

Claire smiled as she remembered the sight of him that day, the memory of the fear and exhilaration she'd felt then making her quiver in pleasure now, "I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I'd never before seen anyone that was so utterly...male. I mean, you are male, obviously, but most of the time when you look at a guy, you recognize that they're a guy because you can see it physically. But with you, I didn't need to look to know you were a man, I could sense it even before I turned my head to see you coming. I felt you like this...primal stimulus pulsing inside me, like a pressure in my chest, and it was so heavy that it stole my breath. Never in my life have I been so physically aware that I was a woman as I was at that moment. I'm serious."

Wesker almost told her to stop talking, because her blunt honesty was doing more to him than just stroking his pride. Her words were inflating more than just his ego. She was calling to the part of him that wanted to lose control, that lived for those moments. But he didn't tell her to stop. He wanted to hear more. Rarely was someone this transparent about their thoughts of him and it would be rude of him to interrupt her now. Wesker's pupils dilated as he listened, something the redhead thankfully missed in her rambling, and he slowly encroached on her space while she was distracted. The fact that the flattery was entirely unintentional on her part, she wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, simply letting the words slip out as she thought them, made him believe them, enjoy them. Without question, he preferred Claire's praise over the simpering compliments regarding his looks or intelligence that women usually paid him. How could his ego not grow when the young woman who'd haunted his thoughts for the last year was revealing to him that his masculinity had been so overwhelming it had compelled her awareness of her own corresponding gender. Redfields really did have a way with words.

Claire kept talking, oblivious to Wesker's gradually shifting demeanor. "And you weren't even looking at me, I was positive that you hadn't noticed me at all as you passed. I remember staring up at you as you went by and thinking, if I had to describe what a man was to someone who had been blind their whole life, this guy would be it. Cause, you know, you're strikingly gorgeous, and you definitely know it, and your body's...fuck, don't even get me started on what I think of your perfect body or I really will embarrass myself."

He smiled with her, and there more than a little arrogance in his. Yes, Wesker was aware that his appearance was highly appealing to the fairer sex. He'd used his looks on multiple occasions in the past to gain an advantage or broker a deal with a potential benefactor. It didn't matter to him that he felt no genuine interest in the pampered socialites and pretentious corporate harpies he'd charmed, they served a purpose and that purpose was to strengthen his position in the company he really worked for, the Umbrella Corporation. His work required resources and resources cost money. While Umbrella was willing to provide those resources, it garnered him more influence to bring in his own providers. Some of the more...special resources his work required couldn't be bought through the legal channels, and that meant he needed pawns who could connect him to suppliers operating outside the law. And powerful pawns always seemed to have a few women in their company that could be manipulated to fulfill Wesker's demands. That and it was easier, and less degrading, to use a woman near and dear to his target rather than dealing directly with the man holding the power.

All of the women were vain enough to believe it was their beauty that attracted him to them, that they were the ones doing the seducing, their honeyed praise nothing more than a ploy to control him. No one controlled Albert Wesker. But none of the women Wesker had associated with in the past had any of Claire's innocence either, they were all accustomed to getting their way by shamelessly flaunting their bodies in the presence of men with power, spreading their legs without a shred of humility to gain support from the man with the most influence, or lying with saccharine puffery, always heavy with implication, to curry favor. They played the same game he did, but they disgusted him. They relied solely on their body rather than their brain to win. He seduced the women he used, that was true, but he didn't sleep with them. It wasn't necessary for him to sink that low to exploit their worth. And it wasn't as if their gender made sex a requirement to get ahead in the corporate game, he personally knew one woman who could get what she wanted without removing a single article of clothing. Wesker wasn't fond of her either.

Even outside the corporate world, in his every day interactions with average women, there was still an ulterior motive in their flirting remarks. Wesker didn't date, he didn't normally entangle himself in romantic relationships with women. He fucked, he had one night stands, and over the last twenty years he had taken a few lovers who claimed to understand that the arrangement between them was strictly for the purpose of meeting their unorthodox sexual needs and nothing more. He made it clear to them from the start that he did not and would not have any feelings for them. And knew with absolute certainty that it was the same for them as well. Some were able to keep it hidden longer than others, but they all eventually revealed their true agenda once they overstepped their bounds, using manipulation, and in one instance blackmail, to try to force his hand and gain what they hadn't earned, but felt they deserved simply because they'd bent over for him or sucked him off more than once.

Power, money, prestige, it was always one of the three. It had reached the point where he'd decided the sex wasn't even worth the hassle it came with. The only times his hand caused him trouble were on the days he'd been stuck typing or writing reports for too long and it cramped. Maybe that was why Claire was like a breath of fresh air, if she was trying to get anything from him, it was just him. She was different, and so, to him, she deserved more. Everything Claire was saying to him was just an explanation behind the decision she'd made. That was what made the compliments still spilling from her mouth appealing. When they came from Claire's lips, he could believe them to be true.

"Wesker, you can silence a crowd without saying a word, and your ability to command and lead is revered by the whole city. And I could list all these other great qualities you have, but they wouldn't be what sparked the attraction I feel towards you, they just added to it. There's something about you that draws me in, I can't put a name to it. Something…" Her hands gestured aimlessly as she thought, "…diabolical? Like you're not what you seem and...I don't know, maybe I'm a little screwed up in the head, but that's just fucking hot to me. Then I saw you go into the S.T.A.R.S. office and I was gonna ask Chris to tell me who you were after he got off work, but when the door opened up again a few minutes later, it was you coming out. And you walked straight up to me and introduced yourself."

Wesker recalled the day she was referring to. It was one of the many times he'd had to remind Chief Irons - he scoffed at the title the imbecile held – of who held his purse strings after the incompetent buffoon had botched the response to a kidnapping case, the victim had been a high-ranking government official and one of Umbrella's key investors, because he was more concerned with procuring victims for his own sadistic hobby than doing his job. Irons was a puppet quickly outliving his usefulness, and his mistake had resulted in a considerable amount of work for Wesker, both officially and unofficially. But he'd noticed Claire sitting on the bench on his way back to his desk, her presence just hadn't registered for him immediately at the time because he'd been focused on containing the fit of rage threatening to spill out. It wasn't until he was back in the S.T.A.R.S. office that he'd realized the fetching young woman he'd passed was the very same one he'd rescued only a few weeks prior.

At first, he'd been seized with the disconcerting possibility that she had been conscious when he'd killed the thugs attacking her and she was here to identify him. But he'd quickly dismissed that scenario. Even if she had coherent enough to identify him somehow, it was more likely she'd come here to thank him, not turn him in for murdering a few insignificant miscreants. In all likelihood, she wasn't even here to see him, he'd remarked to himself. And if that was the case, it wouldn't hurt for him to take this opportunity to find out her name and acquaint her with his. A positive first impression was paramount after all, and it would be imprudent of him to let her leave thinking the S.T.A.R.S. Captain was nothing more than a tyrant. He was a tyrant, no reason for him to deny that, but his public image was also derived from his personality, a very specific part of it. He was known to be a polite gentleman as well. So he'd gone back out into the hallway to formally introduce himself to her as Captain Albert Wesker, the refined tyrant.

What a revelation it had been when she'd introduced herself to him as Claire Redfield, the younger sister of the man who had swiftly become the bane of his existence. An unfortunate relation to have, but it wasn't her fault that genetics was playing a cruel joke on the both of them.

There was a lull of silence that stood out after so much had been said by the talkative redhead. Claire seemed to be at war with herself now, apprehension the most prevalent of the emotions written on her face. "Don't laugh, but…," she trailed off, looking away from him, attempting to hide her eyes out of embarrassment or shame. A light tug on her hair from the hand still tangled in her long tresses brought them up back where they belonged. Wesker wanted to see her eyes, because in them he could see her every thought and verify the veracity of what she said.

Since she couldn't look away - why couldn't Wesker just let her stare at the fireplace? - Claire lowered her voice to a husky whisper instead. Her speech had been long-winded, she blamed the wine for that, but even the wine couldn't take away how vulnerable and open the rest of what she had to say made her feel. Because this was one of her secrets, a truth she had carefully guarded whenever he had been near. That is, until she had slipped up on Monday.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that day," she confessed after another pause. "I've thought about a lot of things I wanted to do with you," Wesker didn't miss her glance flitting down briefly to his lap, "all things I've never done. Before the day we met, I didn't really have those urges that everyone else seems to. There wasn't anyone I found attractive enough to even consider, you know, being physical with. I was still curious about sex, but I didn't care about guys or dating. And I didn't really feel like…doing the stuff that leads up to sex when there wasn't anybody I liked enough to make me want to. But then I saw you and it was like my body woke up and my hormones shot through the roof, and suddenly I wanted everything I had been missing out on. Just with you." The blush was becoming a permanent tint on her inflamed cheeks, the blazing heat had become unpleasant to her now, and Claire wished she could be a little cooler about all this.

She sucked in a deep breath and released it, this was the part that had her so annoyingly frazzled. Time to get it out and over with.

"When I was deciding what your penalty would be, it hit me that there was one experience I hadn't had that absolutely had to be with you. And it's an experience I need to have before I can do anything else." A momentary glimpse of the dancing flames. Another deep breath to steel her will. Then deep azure met icy blue, and there was no wavering now.

"I want you to be the first to kiss me. That's your penalty. I know, it's not bold or interesting. But it's important to me that you're the man who takes my first kiss, it's a female thing, women never forget who their firsts were and you're the one that triggered all of this in me. So...I'm choosing you. I need it to be you." There, she'd said it, now she could look away and avoid seeing the disappointment he was bound to be feeling now.

Outwardly, Wesker appeared calm, his face set in a neutral mask that gave nothing away. He met Claire's eyes when she glanced up nervously, aware that she had been more honest than she'd meant to be, and gave her a small reassuring smile to allay the dread building on the edges of her countenance now that she'd finished. To dispel the fear that she had said too much. Perhaps the wine had had an influence on how much she'd revealed, although she did ramble on occasion, not that he minded when she did, and Wesker most certainly did not mind right now.

Every part of his expression was carefully constructed to keep her at ease. She didn't need to know that he was fighting off the impulse to push her down and take more than her first kiss right now. The demand to taste and claim her bordered on bestial, and the part of him that cared little for his meticulous plans and only for satisfying his lust imposed on him the visual of her straddling his lap as his hands roughly gripped her hair and hip to hold her in place.

The image of his tongue driving its way between her sweet lips to taste her for the first time at the exact moment as his throbbing member penetrated her maidenhood to reap the prize of her virginity nearly staggered him. The vision kept going, ignoring his attempts to redirect his thoughts, showing her crying out in rapture with her breasts bouncing freely as he rocked his hips into her at a pace that would have knocked her off if her hands weren't holding onto his shoulders. His body reacted to the visual, hardening in the confines of his pants. She was right in front of him and she wanted him, his baser instincts reasoned, a little seduction and she'd be ready for him to make the image a reality. What better way to reassure her that she had been right to speak so honestly about her feelings for him than by peeling off her clothes and putting her on all fours so he could kneel behind her and…NO! No, no, no, no, no. Not now, not today. He lashed out at his baser self and threatened the internal beast with violence. His libido was not master here and he would not throw away this chance at progress for an unplanned rut, regardless of how satisfying it would be. If he couldn't shut down the fantasy his traitorous mind was explicitly painting for him, he would leave the room. Patience and sacrifice now would lead to much greater pleasures later. To have to remind himself of that was…irritating.

This didn't happen to him, never happened to him, Wesker did not lose himself in carnality like this, didn't give up so much control to the ferine entity residing inside him. It was her. Her presence awoke more than his desire it seemed. She was a little minx, his Claire. An astute, vulnerable, enticing coquette so very close to being violently, lovingly ravished on the floor if he couldn't keep himself in check. Did she know the effect her words would have on him? Doubtful. It took effort, but Wesker squashed the resistance he encountered from his libido and regained control of himself. Confident that he would not go beyond the limits he'd put in place for tonight, his thoughts returned to the pertinent information he'd learned mere minutes ago.

The level of attraction she'd professed to harboring for him was much more than he'd anticipated. He'd assumed she'd likely held some desire for him before their talk earlier that week, but he'd never considered the possibility that she'd lusted for him for as long as he had for her. If he'd known of her longing sooner…no matter, she was making him aware of it now and he would be taking it into consideration as he plotted his next move.

For now though, there was the matter of her penalty. She thought it silly. He disagreed. It was perfect. By her own choice, she was presenting him the means to sow the first seed, to begin the infiltration of her defenses, to set the bar by which any future suitors would be compared to and subsequently fail to meet. Wesker felt a deep sense of pride, as well as a possessive stirring, that she had consciously chosen him to be the one to claim her first kiss. No one else was worthy of it in her eyes, no one but him. As it should be. The right to be the first one to taste her lips absolutely belonged to him. He would have to take care to ensure it was a memorable one. Wesker reached up and caressed her face, running the back of his fingers across her jaw. She didn't know it yet, but he would be the only one to kiss her lips, to intimately know her taste. Wesker would be the first and last man to discover how soft her mouth would feel as she parted for him.

"Dear heart, I don't know why you cling to this assumption that I would view any penalty of yours as silly. That could not be farther from the truth. Let me assure you that, as a man, I find it rather attractive that no one else has had the privilege of kissing you. You can't begin to fathom the delight it brings me to be your first." He swiped his thumb across her pouting bottom lip, puffy and red from her teeth biting on it throughout the evening, before using his hand to pull her face close while he lowered his.

He didn't immediately descend on her lips though, as Claire had expected.

With exaggerated leisure, Wesker started by laying a kiss to her forehead, his sharp, straight nose nuzzling her bangs. Next were the careful kisses on each fluttering eyelid, barely brushing the delicate skin. Then his mouth was touching each flushed cheek, taking his time to trace her high cheekbones in small quick pecks, like his affections would cool the inflamed flesh. Claire was panting by the time she felt him placing a kiss on each corner of her mouth. Wesker pulled back just enough to see her glazed eyes, half open, the apprehension that had been plaguing her earlier long gone. When she tilted her head up, granting him better access, it was all the indication he needed that she was ready.

Agonizingly slow, Wesker pressed his lips softly to hers, the initial touch teasing both of them. The pressure was almost nonexistent when his lips met hers, barely brushing the surface. Exactly as he had intended. He pulled back and she whimpered, wanting more, and he crushed his mouth to hers, giving Claire what they mutually wanted.

"Wesker…" Claire moaned, and he smiled against her skin. Already moaning for him and he'd only just started.

Their lips slid against each other and Claire pushed back with her own, seeking more of the pleasure the kiss gave her. The feeling of his mouth moving against hers was as wonderful as she'd imagined it would be and she reveled in the fact that, after a year of fantasizing about it, she was finally kissing Albert Wesker. She was enjoying herself, sighing happily as Wesker's parted to play with her bottom lip, and she mimicked his movement to close hers on his upper lip. Now she knew why teenagers got caught making out so much at school, this was so much better than she'd thought, she didn't want to stop.

Then she felt something wet and slimy pushing against her mouth and she pulled back with a girly squeal.

"What are you doing?!"

Wesker just looked at her like she'd done something funny. "I'm trying to kiss you," he said with a smirk as he pulled her back in and captured her lips again. Her response was hesitant at first, a little leery of whatever it was she'd felt trying to get past her lips, but soon she was once again pulling herself closer to him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest as she eagerly returned the kiss with firmly closed lips.

And then she felt the wet prodding at her mouth again. When she realized it was Wesker's tongue prodding her, she popped back like she'd been electrocuted.

"Why are you trying to stick your tongue in my mouth?!" Claire asked, like it was the strangest thing in the world.

Wesker cocked an eyebrow at her, confused by her behavior. "That's how you kiss, Claire."

Now she felt absolutely mortified, because she hadn't been expecting him to do that! How could she have forgotten that people used tongue when they kissed? Had she assumed he would kiss her like they were two middle-schoolers?! Claire wished she could disappear right then. She knew her face had to be flaming red as she stared at Wesker and frantically tried to form an answer that explained away her moment of ignorance, anything to salvage her pride, but all that came out was a stammered gibberish that Wesker couldn't understand anyways because she was too rattled to make any sense. He watched her working herself into a state of panic, trying to recover from what he saw as a truly endearing display of her innocence.

Wesker couldn't help himself, the expression on her face was absolutely priceless. He lost it, his composure dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. Attempting to smother the sounds with a hand over the source, he raised the other towards her in an appeasing gesture, hoping to placate her distress.

He reassured her even as he struggled to breathe through the fit, "I swear, dear heart, I am not laughing at you, it's just…you look so…" The humor of the moment overtook him again and he covered his face with his hands. Wesker was genuinely trying to rein his amusement in, but whenever he glanced over at her the hysteria would hit him even harder, till he was almost on the verge of tears. He really wasn't laughing at her, his unusual reaction was coming from a place of affection. She had no idea how fucking precious she looked freaking out because she hadn't anticipated that kissing him would involve their tongues.

He finally had to turn away from her to get himself back under control. When he faced her again his expression was unguarded and open, the base mask he always wore, something she hadn't even noticed until it was gone, stripped away during his fit. Without the mask, Claire could see the warm tenderness in his eyes and something in his crooked smile that set her somewhat at ease after her embarrassing blunder.

"I apologize for that, my dear, I didn't mean any offense," Wesker looked down and smiled as he shook his head, "I don't think you realize how charmingly adorable you can be sometimes."

Claire groaned in defeat, throwing her head back against the couch. "Adorable really wasn't the impression I was going for tonight. I was hoping for something a little closer to sexy."

He shook his head again, because she was still being adorable, and reached out for her with both hands, murmuring to her quietly, "Come here."

She leaned forward with a dejected sigh to allow him to cradle her face softly before he captured her lips once more.

"This should come as no surprise to you, Claire," he whispered against her lips, "but I have had my fair share of women over the years," he kissed her again, "all of them sexy," another kiss, "…and all of them boring." He stole her breath as his mouth devoured hers with a sudden fervor. One of his hands trailed up her arm to cup the nape of her neck, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against his broad chest. His breathing was labored when he broke away to continue, "Personally, I think that sexy, on its own, is an overrated quality, because so many women can be sexy," his tongue swiped across her lower lip and she gasped, "but most women can't pass for adorable, and rare is the woman who can manage to be both, like you," he nibbled on her lower lip, taking it gently between his teeth and pulling it slowly, releasing it only when she whimpered for him, "So don't view being adorable as less, because I find it to be very," their lips touched briefly as he rose up on one knee above her, "very," her head tilted back with the rise of his curled hand under her chin, lifting it until her neck was taut and all she could see was his smoldering eyes directly above hers, their noses brushing each other, "refreshing. I don't mean for this to sound like an insult when I say it, but I can get sexy anywhere. What you have to offer is so much more arousing, and that is what I want. I want you just as you are, give me that and don't fret over trivial details like whether or not you're sexy. I wouldn't be this painfully hard every time I'm around you if you weren't."

If she'd been bolder, or more experienced, Claire might have reached up to palm the proof of his claim, but she wasn't sure how he'd react to that and she'd already fucked up once. What he'd said had the intended effect on her, she was both flattered and consoled. She stared up at him, enthralled, waiting for him to descend on her. But he did not budge from his position, continuing to watch her from above like a beautiful predator.

What was he waiting for? Was he going to stare at her all day or make a move and kiss her? Frustrated, Claire decided she'd had enough of his teasing, if he wouldn't give her what she wanted, then she'd have to take it.

In a surge of impatience, she grabbed the back of his neck to force his lips down to hers. She captured his mouth, trying to copy some of what he had done to her earlier, pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth and swallowing the sound of his laugh as he returned her kiss.

Taking back control, Wesker used his weight to push her back into the couch. He once again ran the tip of his tongue where her lips pressed together to see what she would do. As expected, Claire froze, her body rigid. She didn't know what to do, he understood without her needing to verbalize it. The kissing Wesker preferred required some technique, and because she didn't have a clue on how to do this, the fear that she'd be terrible at it was hindering her response.

A solution already in mind, he broke away from the kiss and sat back down on the couch. He took hold of Claire's toned waist and pulled her over his lap, so she sat straddling his legs. On reflex, Claire placed her hands on Wesker's shoulders, feeling the firm muscles flex underneath his shirt as his left arm shifted from her waist to hold the nape of her neck again. His right arm stayed where it was so the blonde could play with the skin peeking through the lace on the shirt, tracing the diamond shapes with the tips of his fingers.

"Relax, Claire. I'll tell you what to do. I want you to enjoy this as much as me." His voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the hunger he felt inside.

"Okay," she agreed with some trepidation.

He applied pressure to the back of her neck, silently commanding her to lean forward again. A light squeeze on the back of her neck stopped her just before their lips could meet.

"When you feel my tongue press against you, open your mouth a little," he instructed while placing soft kisses along the edge of her jaw.

Curiosity getting the better of her, and because she didn't want any more surprises, she asked him why, her hands drifting away from his shoulders to begin an exploration of his muscular chest.

He nipped her chin and smirked at her. "So I can taste you and find out if your luscious mouth is as sweet as I think it is," he purred. Then he brought her mouth forward to meet his and their lips parted and slid against each other yet again. She was so very eager against him, her confidence growing as she became familiar with the movements, the little moans she gave him a sign that she was beginning to lose herself in the heady pleasure of being consumed by him.

This time when he licked her lips, asking for entrance, she opened her mouth for him. Evidently she opened them too wide, because she felt the deep rumble of him chuckling against her lips as he muttered, clearly amused, "Not that much."

Claire, more comfortable after the first mistake, giggled and whispered an apology as she adjusted her mouth, but as the silence dragged on and she tried to get her lips into the right position, she couldn't stop giggling, her entire upper body was shaking with it. The mood had become so awkward to her that it crossed over to humorous. Even though she was bothered by how terribly she was doing in front of Wesker, this seriously had to be the worst kiss the captain had ever had with a woman, the giggling wouldn't stop. Claire imagined what Wesker must have been thinking when she'd nearly mouthed his face. Probably that he hadn't given her enough to eat at dinner.

The visual that thought produced wasn't helping Claire stop her own giggle fit. First Wesker, now her. Claire was wondering which they'd done more of tonight: kissing or laughing. She took a few deep breaths, visibly trying to calm herself. Then she made the mistake of looking at Wesker to check his mood. Claire burst into a fresh peal of laughter at the sight of his tightly-clenched smile and furrowed brows, a clear indication he was fighting to not get sucked into the comical moment. His eyes were shiny from the effort and he refused to look at her, staring hard at the bar to the left, because she knew if their eyes did meet that he'd start laughing and then they'd never get the mood back.

Claire told herself to concentrate, the evening wasn't over and she still wanted to kiss Wesker some more. Without eating his face. But the laughter had helped in a way she hadn't been expecting. It had eased some hidden tension in her and broken the pressure she'd been putting on herself for this night to be perfect. When was anything ever perfect? In a way, the laughing fit had made it better, the situation felt normal where before it had seemed so surreal to her. Now she felt closer to herself, like she was really here mentally, no longer worrying about him seeing her as this worldly lady. Claire had pretty much obliterated that persona when she nearly swallowed the captain's chin. God, that was embarrassing, but at least they'd both seen the humor of it. Besides, it had freed her from the pretense she'd been trying to maintain, and since there was no fooling him now she might as well be herself, virgin and all. He didn't seem to care, so why should she?

Feeling good in her skin, and against Wesker's body, she released the last of her reservations and focused on the here and now, allowing the atmosphere to seep into her. No fighting, no thinking, just feeling her surroundings. Her focus zeroed in on the little details around her. Like how warm and hard Wesker's pecs felt under her fingers. She loved feeling along his broad shoulders, squeezing his defined biceps as her hands explored his upper body. He was all hard, rippling muscle under smooth, warm skin. No doubt he was strong, stronger than his lean frame appeared. When she breathed deeply, she could smell him. The woodsy, yet spicy musk of his cologne, and under that was the clean scent of the soap he used, mixed with hints of leather and something that smelled buttery and slightly sweet? It reminded her of the time she'd gone with her brother to a Christmas party at his previous boss' home and she'd caught a whiff of the dark liquid in his glass, some fancy alcohol he kept in a crystal decanter locked away in the cabinet. Brandy maybe?

For some reason his scent smelled so familiar to her, like something she'd smelled in the past, even though she was sure she hadn't before today. Although she couldn't place where she'd come across the scent, it made her feel safe, putting her at ease. It also made her feel horny. His scent seemed to have a direct line to her sex drive. She took another deep breath of him and groaned. Without saying a word, they both knew that the mood was returning. His hot breath along her exposed skin left goosebumps behind and she shivered on top of him. So close, just a little more and she could lose herself in the moment again.

Tired of sitting, she pushed up onto her knees so she could wrap her arms around Wesker's head and shoulders, his own arms wrapping around her thighs in response. The move meant Wesker's face was now buried in her cleavage, so he didn't protest. She heard the lascivious snicker he made from between her breasts, and she might have laughed at it, potentially starting the cycle over again, but the hysteria was cut off before it could begin when she felt the subtle shift in his demeanor. Nothing happened that could explain the shift, no obvious catalyst she could pinpoint, but suddenly there was something potent in the air, the promise of something growing. It was in the slow drag of his nose along the surface of her breasts, drawing in the scent of her perfume and the lingering hints of black raspberry and vanilla from her body wash.

Claire stood absolutely still, listening to the heavy intake of breath as he buried his nose in the crook of her neck. "You smell so fucking good," he growled into her ear, the sound so guttural she moaned low in response. Her heart rate soared as her hips unconsciously surged up against Wesker in an effort to put pressure on her swelling clitoris. The quality of his voice was so animalistic, like there was a wild beast caged inside yearning to break free, and it pushed her rational thinking to the side as her carnal instincts took over.

Wesker nuzzled the soft press of her bust, nipping the sensitive flesh she openly displayed to him. Feeling the familiar ache between her thighs and the spreading heat across her skin, Claire tried to focus on her breathing, on the quiet crackle of the flames in the fireplace, on the plush cushions under her knees, anything to distract her from his teeth biting the tops of her breasts and his hands running up and down the back of her thighs. Her fingers combed through his surprisingly soft hair, and she used her nails to lightly scratch his scalp on each pass, getting her own bit of satisfaction from the low groan she received in return as turned his head to rest it against her cleavage, like he was laying on a lush pillow.

Did he feel like she did right now? Because Claire felt fan-fucking-tastic. The urge to see his eyes, to verify that she was affecting him as much as he affected her, was too great to ignore. Fearing he might move his head from her chest if she jostled him, she leaned to the side carefully, bending right to catch a glimpse of his handsome face. His eyes may have been closed, but he was aware of her looking down at him. Like the rise of the glowing moon over the horizon at dusk, his eyelids slowly crept open. When her eyes caught his and she saw the raw force in them, she fell. Not physically, her body was still very much in the same position. But  _she_  fell, straight into his scorching cold eyes. She had no defense to protect her against his pull. She was gone, lost in his dominance, oblivious to everything but him. Like darkness, it was all-encompassing, there was no escaping him. His look sucked her in and took her hostage, chaining her to the man that held her, and for the life of her she couldn't find the will to be bothered by that. Not when she'd willingly given her captor the keys to her shackles. In the back of her mind, there was the knowledge that if she really wanted to be free, she could. The realization widened her eyes minutely, but she remained in his thrall. The hold only existed because she allowed it.

The mood crashed over them again, oppressive and needy. It was so feral, almost violent in its need. It choked her and it felt good to let it. She enjoyed it. And that was all her. When Wesker had caught her attention and the weight of the power he wielded slammed into her, it had cracked against something in her psyche. The place she hid in her mind, where she kept her secrets safe, now had a tiny fissure on its surface and the smallest trickle of the contents she kept sealed there oozed out, indiscernible. For now. The force of her partner emptied out all of her thoughts till there was nothing but him, and her, and what they could be together.

He held her eyes with his as he slowly lifted his head from the rapid rise and fall of her twin globes. The expanse of her cleavage was marked with the angry red imprint of his teeth. Wesker had bitten down hard enough to fill his mouth with the supple flesh she'd bared to him intentionally. He'd wanted to mark her, even as his rational side had told him that would not be wise, that Claire would have to hide or explain away the bites. But instead of worrying about the suspicion he'd unintentionally put them at risk of, the baser half was internally snarling at the idea of her covering up his work on her skin. That just wouldn't do, it decided, if the visible ones wouldn't be seen by potential rivals, they'd have to leave their mark on her in other ways. There was more than one method he could employ to protect and enforce his claim on her.

Their eyes stayed locked together.

In a trance, she slowly lowered herself back down to his lap. So slow, her knees shook with the effort it took to maintain the sluggish pace of her descent. Once she stilled, all movement stopped save for the quick, shallow pitching of Claire's marked skin, a sharp contrast to Wesker's deep and measured inhales and exhales. Wesker wouldn't allow her to look away from him, her attention belonged to him, just as she did. He bore into her blue depths with a fire that branded her, her blood pooling and boiling deep below in the hollow of her hips, drenching her folds with her essence. There was no need to touch her to stroke the fire between her legs, he commanded her body with just a look to answer him. And she did, he could smell hints of the fragrant buttery scent of her arousal in the air between them.

'Not enough,' he thought, 'She needs more. I need more. This isn't enough.' There was no fear in her, and so Wesker advanced without hesitation.

There was no visual signal, no verbal cue, nothing physical to convey what he wanted her to do. Yet the silent command still reached her ears, and she leaned forward, her lips hovering in front of his, waiting for him to give her permission.

But now he denied her. Looked at her still and told her no without a sound. Even as his hands snaked over the tops of her thighs, curving around the sensual swell of her hips to grab her firm ass, grasping each cheek in the palm of his hand. Even when he used his grip on her to pull her hips forward as he pushed away from the couch, closing the gap between his erect member and her pulsing sheath hidden beneath their clothes. His domineering eyes, mere inches away, refused to say yes.

Wesker grunted harshly at the sharp pleasure he felt when their groins met, her own cry of desperate want echoing him at the collision. He didn't give her the permission she needed to press her lips to his and his hands didn't reach under so he could touch the damp seeping into the cloth between her legs. There was no question that she was completely his as she rotated her hips against him like a wanton slut urging for him to satisfy her, and it wasn't as if the pain of the physical denial wasn't torturing them both. But Wesker waited, because right now her body was only asking. And it should have been begging. So he tormented Claire, let her see in the connection they maintained still what could happen, no, what would happen, if only he'd give her permission to take that last inch separating their lips.

It was too much for Claire.

She didn't have the control he did, nor the experience to handle this much passion. Her body couldn't contain it and she was afraid her skin would burst if her release wasn't granted soon. Wesker was probably getting some sort of devious joy out of this. The proof of her assumption was clear as day in the expression he wore: arrogant and dark, so very dark, almost tenderly cruel in nature. But above all, his demeanor said that this excited him. This, this was one of his kinks, one of his cravings, this was the sort of thing that turned him on.

If she could get her head to work for a second, she would agree that it was one of hers too. There was pain building inside her, but in a realization that should have made her sick, but didn't, she found herself loving it like she'd hoped she would, relishing the way it stroked her nerve endings and ignited her entire body with sensation. She wanted to bridge the distance between them, but underneath the arrogance and feverish desire on his face was a threat of punishment if she dared to steal a kiss before he permitted her to. So as much as she wanted it, she would not take it. This time.

Being denied for so long pushed Claire to her limits, and she abandoned any sense of decorum in favor of stopping the torture Wesker was inflicting on her. Fuck decency, if he wanted her to beg she would, cause if he didn't move this along she was going to spontaneously combust. She mewled like a famished kitten in his lap, pleading for mercy, for relief from the intense hunger robbing her of coherency, the sharp stabbing between her thighs that teased the walls of her channel without filling that emptiness. Her pleas broke his will to drag this out any longer and she finally saw the yes she sought.

Instantly, her mouth was on his, feeding on his lips. He responded in kind and they fought for dominance, their teeth occasionally clashing. It was messy and wet and rough. She didn't try to be gentle, after all the denial she wanted to punish him with her harsh kiss, but he only moaned and pushed back harder, taking pleasure from the harm she inflicted. The battle was fiercely fought, but in the end Wesker won, of course he won, and he reached up to grab her face in victory, holding her back and stopping her effortlessly as she tried to push forward to kiss him again. The hands that held her back were immovable, his strength made it impossible for her to gain any ground, and Claire understood then that he would controlling the kiss now.

He smirked when she stopped fighting his hold, although her expression was too wild for him to fooled by her sudden compliance. But she'd still submitted.

Such a good girl, so willing and eager to give in to him, she was starving for his touch.

The likelihood that she would always be this obedient was slim. If her brother was any indication of the Redfield nature, she would be just as volatile. A turbulent but passionate lover was preferable to a weak and docile one. He loved a woman that kept him on his toes, loved the thrill of a sweet submissive one day and a defiant spitfire the next. Variety saved the sex from becoming dull and the unpredictable kept his senses sharp.

It was especially pleasing to him that Claire picked up on his unspoken cues quicker than any former partner ever had. Whatever it was that drew him to her, an impetus he doubted he'd ever be able to accurately determine, seemed to pull her to him as well.

The hands that held her back brought her forward again, but the approach was calculated and unhurried as her face was drawn back to the man she desired. His mouth pressed into hers in a bruising kiss and when she whimpered for him his cock twitched, straining against the zipper of his jeans as if with enough force it could tear through it to reach the hot, moist entrance sitting tantalizingly close above. His tongue pushed forcefully against her mouth now, not asking to be let in to her wet orifice but demanding it, and she parted for him with a sweet sigh, opening just the right amount this time. He delved inside and tasted her, running across the surface of her tongue. His groan was muffled by their tongues clashing. She was absolutely delectable, just as sweet as he'd known she'd be. He attacked her lips with a renewed hunger, using his hold on her hair to angle her head back sharply, allowing him to control the moment.

Their tongues wrestled as they moved their lips frantically against each other. Harsh dragging breaths punctuated the silence of the room. Delicate hands ripped at his sweater, diving underneath to reach his toned abdomen. The way she moaned when she traced the lines of his abs made him wish he could do the same to her. Normally he would have no problem lifting his lover's shirt so he could play with her breasts, especially when they were taking the same liberties, but he couldn't do that with Claire today. He'd allow her to have her fun though, let her soft hands rub across his smooth chest, her nails lightly scratching across his ribs each time he bit and tugged on her lips.

He pulled his tongue back and hers immediately followed, slipping between his lips to lightly run it along the front roof of his mouth before engaging his again. He rewarded her initiative with a low husky growl, sucking on her probing appendage. Claire's mouth and hands weren't the only parts of her body moving against him now. As she licked his lips, taking the chance to experiment on her own, he allowed her to slip inside his mouth once again and she began to undulate her hips on his groin, grinding down against him in abandon. Up until that point, he'd been good, he'd been in control, he'd been careful. But when she wantonly rubbed herself against him like this, stimulating her pussy with his swollen cock, actively inviting him go even further with her, he decided he'd been good long enough.

The clip in her hair was roughly pulled out and tossed to the side, but she didn't have time to cry out at the light pain he'd caused before Wesker had lifted her up as he rose and threw her down flat on the couch. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of her, his hips firmly pressed between her thighs, using his weight to pin her between him and the cushions. She looked up at him, her wide, glazed eyes startled, chest straining against the tight shirt she'd worn to tease him, her cupid's bow swollen from his teeth biting down on her plump lips, and he saw the fear and desire mixing together in her expression.

He raised himself up on his arms to take in the intoxicating sight of her beneath him, his greedy eyes roaming over her body and he hummed in shameless appreciation, keeping her hips flush against his. This was better than he'd imagined it, his mind hadn't done her loveliness justice. "Do you have any idea how magnificent you are, laying here, begging me to take you with those wild blue eyes and pouting red lips? My voluptuous little siren." She heard his hoarse groan and responded with her own throaty giggle, husky from her own arousal, as she basked in the exalted rush she received from watching Wesker struggle against the savage urges she was invoking in him against his will.

"You look like sinful perfection, Claire, like you belong underneath me. And I belong on top of you." The amorous beast she'd seen lurking just behind his cool eyes was starting to peek out and her body arched towards him to greet it, a whine of leaving her lips to mix with the sound of his heavy breathing. She'd liked what she heard. The laughter she heard from above now bore the same qualities of the man that was producing it, dark and dangerous and obscenely sexual, it touched her everywhere that he had avoided so far. Wesker flexed his hips forward once, grinding up against her wet heat, and she threw her head back with a shrieking cry to god that ended in a high keen, exposing the delicious line of her neck to him. Absolutely exquisite.

Blindly, her hands reached up to encircle his neck and pull him down to her, and with an indulgent chuckle he dropped down to his elbows to claim her lips again. His hands plunged into her auburn locks so he could pull on the strands when she needed to be reined in, but also so he could keep them from traveling somewhere else. As their tongues wrestled with each other, he didn't miss her opening her thighs wider, trying to get closer to what she wanted. When he felt the unmistakable pressure of her pushing her hips up against his, he nearly lost control again, but he caught himself, stomping down the urge to release her hair in favor of reaching down to unbutton her jeans.

This was…well, Wesker certainly hadn't anticipated all this, and he was rarely surprised these days. Hidden beneath her insecurities, who would have thought that Claire was a ravenous fox? The sensation of her masturbating herself against his stiff erection was maddening. Claire was using him like a sex toy to get herself off and he loved it. Even as the friction drove him insane. He snarled against her lips, the sound of it thick with unquenched lust. The walls of her womanhood clenched erratically as their kissing became frenzied.

The combined music of her soft, needy sighs and his rumbling groans filled the room as he rubbed the bulge in his jeans between her thighs in long, heavy strokes. The volume of her pleasure grew louder as they built an aggressive rhythm, using his strength and his hand on her lower back to increase the pressure of his cock grinding against her hidden treasure. He hissed, his eyes closing to savor the delectable pain, when he felt Claire's teeth sink into the crook of his neck as her hips frantically rose to meet him.

As delicious as this was, it wouldn't be enough for Wesker to reach orgasm. Claire, however, was well on her way to her climax from the desperate way she was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. There was a wild edge to her passionate pleas for him to keep going.

Wesker didn't mind not getting off this time, it wasn't important right now. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to indulge himself a little more before he gave her an orgasm. She'd confessed to him that she loved the way he talked, and lucky for her dirty talk was one of his favorite pastimes. Few things gave him as much pleasure as watching a woman react as he voiced aloud all the filthy thoughts running through his head. He savored the way they'd blush in embarrassment as he described in excruciating detail the perverse fantasies he imagined or the devious fun to come. He enjoyed talking dirty in the bedroom more than most men, likely because it was the polar opposite of his public persona. They never expected it from him and therefore were never prepared to school their expressions once he started. It never failed to thrill him to see the shock and shame on the faces of his lovers as they listened to the vulgarity he whispered so intimately in their ears. Claire's reactions though, he suspected, would be very different, and much more enjoyable, than his previous lovers' had been.

Wesker kept his grip on her silky hair with one hand and the other skimmed down her body to reach around and grip her thigh, pulling it up with a deep grunt to wrap around his waist and grant him a better angle to pleasure her. He resumed his firm grind against her throbbing sex, and for a blissful moment he enjoyed the sight of Claire writhing below him, delirious from ecstasy, her eyes squeezed shut as she lost herself to what he was doing to her, too far gone to care about how she looked or sounded as she gave into raw need. He wanted to remember this, his Claire free of inhibition or thought from what he was doing to her. When he was confident the image was permanently imprinted in his mind, he commanded her attention to him again.

"Look at me." The order was delivered sharply, the harsh edge to it said without words that the order was to be followed without question, but the naked desire in his tone helped her pry her eyes open to gaze blearily up at him, barely clinging to her sanity.

Wesker's wolfish grin greeted her from only inches away when her vision finally focused. "Think of it, love, this is just a taste of what I can do for you, what I can do to you," He purred seductively, brushing her lips with his, "I want you to imagine…how good it's going to feel…to have all of this…" he pulled his hips back and thrust against her, and she cried out beautifully for him "…inside you, feeling yourself spread as I enter you." He lowered himself down to lay atop the length of her pliant body, settling his weight in the space between her legs as he rocked his swollen member in slow oscillations against her folds, "You're going to be so tight, I'll have to force my way inside, and you'll love how it hurts. You'll look forward to it each time your soft...warm...wet…pussy has to stretch to fit  _this_  inside you," he thrust against her again, harder this time, and she let out a surprised gasp as a red blush painted her cheeks, but she didn't look away from him. Her eyes said his words were turning her on just as much as his body moving on top of hers was.

He breathed in her scent along her neck and jaw line, listening to the rhythm of her rapid shallow pants. Experience was his greatest ally tonight, he knew moves that could drive her out of her mind even with all of her clothes on. He angled his groin to press down right where her clit should be, rotating his hips in a circle directly over that small spot, and she sang her pleasure for him as she tried to both pull him closer and push herself away. What he was doing to her felt so good, too good, and she couldn't decide if she wanted it more of it or not.

Wesker hid his smile against the shell of her ear and murmured quietly to her, "Once I'm all the way inside you, when you're full of my cock, you're going to feel complete in a way that you'll only ever feel with me. You'll willingly open your legs for me to take you over...and over...and over, just so you can feel that way again."

"Oh my god!" Claire choked out, barely able to speak around the need in her, and he chuckled in dark triumph.

Swallowing the rest of her cries with a searing kiss, he used his tongue to mimic the thrusting and grinding of his hips on hers. Her orgasm was rapidly approaching, but he wasn't done with her yet. The grip he had on her hair was rough, but the pain was confusing, because it felt pleasant to her. Claire whimpered at the loss of his solid weight on top of her as Wesker rose up and used her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to look up at him again.

He looked down at her and there was another need in his eyes: to dominate. It was a look that would have been more appropriate while wearing nothing but leather pants rather than the casual sweater and jeans he wore now. She trembled under his dark imperious gaze. As long as Wesker stared down at her like that, she'd gladly do anything he wanted if it meant she could fucking reach her orgasm already.

A frustrated grunt drew her attention back to him, right before her lower body was hastily lifted and his hand issued a sharp slap to her ass that she enjoyed much more than she should have. He'd seen that she was distracted and his narrowed gaze said wasn't happy about it. "Don't you dare look away from me," Wesker growled, "Right now, I am master here, you will only cum because I want you too, and I am going to watch your eyes as you shatter from my touch. I will see your face as you climax with your legs wrapped around my waist and your pussy rubbing against my dick. Is that understood?" Claire nodded desperately, she wouldn't look away, she couldn't. She'd never seen anything as erotic as Wesker looming over her like some hedonistic god.

He leered down at her with a cocky smile, pleased with her response. "Good. Now I want you to tell me who it is that's turned you into such a naughty girl?" He was still grinding against her, thrusting with enough force to push her folds against her pelvis and expose her clitoris to the friction.

Wasn't the answer obvious?

"You," Claire replied, yelping when he suddenly pulled hard on her hair and spanked her ass again, glaring down at her without malice, that haughty smirk still in place.

"I don't like having to repeat myself, dear heart. I will ask one more time, who is it that's made you into such a naughty girl?"

What did he want her to say?! She'd said it was him, it was him! Unless…

"Wesker!" she screamed and the sinister grin he flashed her said she'd answered correctly this time.

"That's right. Now tell me who it is you want licking your sweet cunt?" He purred.

Again she screamed his name.

"Mmm yes, scream it just like that. I can hear in your voice how much you love this. You're making me very, very happy right now. Tell me, Claire, who is it that you want to please with that wicked mouth of yours?

"Wesker!" she was nearly sobbing now, she could hardly take what he was doing to her. She'd never burned like this before, she'd never been this painfully turned on ever. It was like his words had a direct line to her clitoris and they stroked it vigorously every time he spoke. She should have felt ashamed at the way he was talking to her, he said things that a gentleman should never say, so filthy and obscene she should have felt violated by it, but it appealed to the deviant in her. It was so wrong, but she wanted to feel this way sometimes, like a dirty little whore even though they both knew she definitely wasn't, and so she basked in the depravity of it all. The fissure inside widened a touch more.

"Very good, dearest, you seem to know all the answers tonight," he snickered and Claire might have thrown a glare his way, but it was hard to tell when she was moaning so much. "Next question, who are you going to think about every time you play with yourself from now on?"

"Wesker! God damn it, Wesker, please!"

One more push and he'd finish her. The speed of his rubbing and thrusting increased, massaging her clit faster and harder, and he released her thigh to lightly grab her by the throat, squeezing the delicate column with the barest amount of pressure. Her eyes flashed for a moment, but the fear was gone just as quickly, the understanding that he wouldn't hurt her wiping it away. Instead she pushed her neck against his hand, testing how it felt to her, deciding if she liked it or not. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip and a deep groan escaped. She liked it.

"I know, you're so close, so very close to coming apart for me. This is the last one, and this time I want to hear you scream. Cum for me now and tell me who's going to fuck you and take your precious innocence? Scream it!" The violent command was punctuated with one final, brutal drive forward, ramming against her entrance with enough force to bruise her pelvis, enough to even hurt him. But it was exactly what she needed to reach her peak.

Her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened in a wide 'o' as her answer ripped through the room in the scream he'd demanded.

"WESKER!"

Her spine bowed so sharply it had to have been uncomfortable, but any pain she was experiencing went unnoticed as she came thrashing underneath him. Her nails raked down his back, drawing blood even through his sweater as she shook with each pulsing wave of her orgasm. Every muscle in her body was stiff, the tension curling her legs and pointing her toes. The force of her climax left her mouth open, but no sound came out. She bucked a few times as the last of the incredible sensations rushed through her. When she had stopped moving, save for the sporadic twitches from the remnants of her climax, he took her into his arms, stroking the side of her face as she came down from what he smugly assumed was the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. An orgasm she'd always remember that Wesker had given her. That on its own was all the satisfaction he needed tonight. Getting to see her lose herself in the throes of ecstasy more than made up for not receiving any relief of his own.

Slowly, her muscles unclenched as her body relaxed, shuddering as the final spasms passed. Claire's dazed blue eyes began to focus on him, and she gifted him with her own satisfied smile. Oh yes, the sight of Claire post-climax was worth his own discomfort right now. Wesker captured her lips with his in a possessive embrace and she responded, although her lips moved languidly against his, her tongue putting up a half-hearted fight as he plundered her mouth and tasted her sweetness. But she broke away suddenly to look down between them. Confused at first, he realized when he followed her gaze that she had noticed his stiff length pressing against her still.

"You didn't…" Claire trailed off, but he understood what she was asking.

He laughed lightly, trailing hungry kisses along her jaw down to her neck. As he nibbled on the sensitive skin behind her ear, he answered, "Next time, perhaps. I wanted tonight to be all about you."

This hadn't been for him, but he'd enjoyed himself regardless of whether or not he finished. There would be time later to take care of the affliction of his lust. It hurt to ignore it, but it mattered to him that she understand the importance of her pleasure, a good first lesson for her to learn.

She wanted to protest him not getting to cum, but she was tired and her muscles felt like they'd been replaced with jello. There was a good chance she wouldn't be able to stand if she tried right now. Not that Wesker gave her the option when he settled his weight on top of her again. They shared soft, languorous kisses now, relaxing together as the tension left her body and his erection calmed down.

"Are you ready for dessert now?" he asked, not giving her a chance to answer before he forced his tongue between her lips, stealing another taste.

When he pulled back again, she was half-lucid. "I thought what we just did was dessert," she moaned beneath him, leaning up to get him to kiss her again.

He snickered and shook his head. "That was to satisfy a different kind of hunger, dear heart. I prepared an actual dessert for tonight as well." Carefully, Wesker got up to stand on the floor next to her, "Don't move, I'll only be gone a minute."

She nodded and watched him exit down the hallway to the kitchen. While he was gone, she took a second to straighten her clothes and hunt for her hair clip, finding it near the fireplace. She chose to leave it on the coffee table rather than putting her hair back up since Wesker liked to run his hands through her hair whenever they kissed and she didn't want to dissuade him from doing that.

He returned a few seconds after she'd sat back on her spot on the couch with two spoons and a small glass bowl filled with chocolate mousse, a dollop of white whip cream on top. God damn it, way to set the bar high, Wesker. The man had really pulled out all the stops for her. Why though?

They shared the decadent treat and Claire was in a whole different kind of bliss. The activity was simple, but it felt romantic, like something a couple would do. A few times Wesker even fed her a spoonful of the silky smooth mousse, smirking at her as he slipped it between her parted lips and heard her contented sighs as she enjoyed the decadent chocolate taste. After each bite he fed her, he'd immediately follow with his mouth pressed against hers, his tongue dipping in to taste her warm mouth with the chocolate flavor coating it. The bowl was left on the coffee table once empty and she laid back down on the couch again, Wesker holding himself above her.

The mood was sensual rather than sexual now as the two exchanged long, probing kisses, her fingers brushing through his short hair. Claire pulled Wesker down to close the distance between them, and he didn't resist her. His weight on top of hers was reassuring and warm and one thing she'd discovered this evening was that she loved to be trapped below him, to feel his body so solid on top of hers. With him settled above, she leaned up to engage his tongue in a lazy war while his hand buried itself in her auburn locks to hold her face gently, the other massaging the side of her neck.

Eventually though, the late hour got the better of her and Wesker caught her trying to discretely stifle a yawn. Claire hadn't realized how exhausted she felt when they were making out on the couch, but now that she had, she couldn't stop yawning. They hadn't noticed the time passing, but when Wesker looked up to check the clock on the mantle above the fireplace, he saw it was well past midnight.

"Unfortunately, it looks like our evening together is over. I need to get you home before your brother returns and finds you gone," he said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Claire groaned, to Wesker's smug delight, but agreed. She knew the night had to end eventually, but that didn't mean it sucked any less.

On the way back, during her last twenty minutes to be truly alone with Wesker until who knows when, Claire decided to push her boundaries a little, feeling a bit more confident after the evening she'd had.

Still a little shy, she reached over the center console to grab Wesker's thigh as he drove, like he had done to her on the way to his house. Her grip was tentative, she wasn't sure if she could freely touch him like this, but when he didn't tell her to remove her hand, her touch grew more confident. She rubbed this thigh in firm, teasing passes, dipping down towards the inner thigh as she grew braver. Wesker was thrilled that she was already more comfortable with him, less hesitant to touch him on her own. He encouraged her with a low drawn out groan so she could hear how pleasurable her hand on his leg was. The blush blooming across her face when she heard it was apparent to him even in the dark interior of the car. But she didn't pull her hand back and she didn't stop inching it further in with each leisurely pass.

Once they reached her home and saw, with no small amount of relief for Claire, that the driveway was still empty, Wesker got out of the car and walked over to her side to open the door for her. His warm hand on the small of her back escorted her to the front door. Then, when she turned around to say goodnight, he slammed her into it with his body pressed hard against hers, pinning her wrists above her head with his hands. Any protests she might have made were silenced with his mouth devouring hers. The violent passion of it stole her breath and she responded eagerly to him, the kiss a frantic dance of lips and teeth that bordered on vicious, but there was no cruelty behind the frenzy, only untamed ardor.

Claire sucked impatiently on Wesker's tongue, something she'd noticed him do earlier to her, and he snarled, pulling her lower lip out with his teeth before releasing it to move his lips to her neck. He bit down on the crook of her neck, his favorite spot, hard enough that she was sure there'd be a bruise. He made what was guaranteed to leave a love bite worse by sealing his lips around the tender flesh and sucking hard, drawing the blood to the surface to give her one hell of a hickey.

When he pulled back, she was gasping against the door and straining against his hold on her arms, leaning forward to reach him. But as always, he was in control, and he'd decided Claire had had enough for one night. Even if she disagreed.

"Good night, dear heart," Wesker said with a patient, amused smile, ignoring her glowering expression at being denied again, "I thoroughly enjoyed paying your penalty tonight. But don't expect to get so lucky next time. I suspect it will be you paying the price of a losing bet very soon."

Because he clearly enjoyed torturing her, he gave her one more kiss, this one gentler and sweeter, but no less possessive than the last one had been. Claire told herself it was completely out of her control when she raised her leg and rubbed herself against him. But she found it hard to feel all that bad about it when she heard his frustrated growl he emitted before he hissed quietly into her ear, "I am warning you now, if you keep teasing me like this, neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."

His meaning was clear enough and she reluctantly gave up trying to tempt him. It wasn't lost on him that Claire didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt for giving him another raging erection right before he had to get back in his car and drive home alone. Nor did he miss the aggravated huff that told him she hadn't wanted to stop.

Wesker laughed at her sullen expression, she looked so put-out by her own decision. Poor thing. He leaned his forehead against hers and shook his head. She was going to be the death of him with her provocative instigating and adorable reactions, he was sure of it.

He released her wrists so his hand could caress her cheek. "You're a vixen, you know that?" He whispered, and the intimacy of his tone made the quiet noises of the night seem too loud to her.

Claire shook her head, mesmerized by his piercing eyes and his woodsy scent mixed with the fragrant night air.

"You make me want to lose control, and that is something I can never do." He held her face between his hands and planted one last chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll be thinking about you tonight when I'm lying in bed. When I take care of this predicament you've put me in, you'll be the only one in my thoughts. I'm going to imagine it's your hand that's stroking me, and when I reach my release it will be your name I call," Wesker nipped her chin, "Sweet dreams, Claire."

He stepped away from her, leaving her dazed at the door, and heard her wish him a breathy good night as he walked back to his car. She caught him smirking as she tried to figure out how legs worked again and cursed to herself. Once he saw her go inside, he got into his car and drove home, refusing to recall the night's events just yet.

It wasn't until he was grabbing the glass bowl from the living room and his eyes landed on the couch, remembering how he'd had Claire screaming his name underneath him on it earlier, that he couldn't hold off his desire for relief any longer. As the memory of the evening assaulted him, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his stiff member. Laying in the spot she had occupied before, he stroked himself with a firm grip, focusing on the head as he masturbated. Closing his eyes, he visualized Claire sitting on top of him, blushing and demure in her innocence, her soft hands gripping his girth, her fingers wrapped around it as she jerked him off. Then she was bending over, lowering her face towards his engorged length, and the sinful look she gave him was not that of an innocent virgin. She stared at him with a dark lust and whispered against the head of his cock that she wanted him inside her, begging for it with a breathy please, before she covered the tip with her soft lips and sucked on the head long and hard, her tongue playing with the slit. Then her wet mouth was sliding down, taking more of him inside her, till his cock hit the back of her throat. But she didn't stop, she swallowed the rest of his member, deep-throating his dick as her head bobbed up and down between his legs. Her fingers fondled his balls expertly and she hummed when her mouth formed a ring around the base. She looked up suddenly, meeting his eyes while she sucked him, dragging her lips up until the head popped out with an audible sound, her saliva dripping from her chin onto the head as she smiled coyly up at him and blew a hot breath across the tip.

He came without warning, snarling the name of the redheaded vixen, the milky white ejaculation shooting out in spurts across his hand and jeans, a few drops managing to land on the leather cushion. Still not satisfied, but accepting that it would be enough to at least allow him to get some sleep, he got up and cleaned up the mess he'd made, carrying the dirty dishes and wine back to the kitchen.

As he washed the dishes from dinner, he mulled over the modifications he'd need to make, sure now of the course of action he'd take with her. He would proceed slower, devoting more time to seduction to gently break her down. Later, they could take their fun to the basement of his home, where he'd introduce her to even greater pleasures. The wait would be torturous, he'd likely have to rely on his hand for a while longer to quench his lust. His hand reached up to trace the bite mark she'd left on his own throat. Then again, based on her eagerness tonight, perhaps he could rely on hers as well.

Next time, he decided with an amorous smirk, she would be on the losing end of the bet. He'd guarantee it.

 

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**_Thank you for reading chapter 3! Please review, you guys have no idea how much I appreciate it when I see that someone took the time to tell me what they thought!_ **

**_This took me longer to edit than I intended because I wasn't sure about the dirty talk and the sexual content. I went back and forth wondering if it was too silly or too much or if I should take it out. But I figured if I'm gonna write smut, I'm gonna go for it. Hopefully I won't be the only one who likes the dirty talkin' Wesker._ **

**_Sometime in the next few chapters, I'll need to introduce an OC of mine into the story. It's a character from my original works (not posted), but her background story and personality have been fully developed and she fits what I need in here. The OC is necessary because Claire needs a friend who is also a friend/ally of Wesker. The OC won't be paired with any main characters, unless you count H.U.N.K. as a main, and even then that will depend on where this story ends up going. I'm still debating which direction I'm going to take it, because I have another story planned that will go in the direction this one doesn't._ **

**_The next one won't be until sometime in May, unfortunately! But keep reviewing, they feed my creative fire! I'll try to get chapter 4 out ASAP!_ **

**_THANK YOU FOR READING!_ **


	4. Abstract Revelations

**_The Penalty Game: Chapter Four – Abstract Revelations_ **

**_Author’s Note:_ **

**_I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!! I did not intend to take so long getting out the next chapter to all of you, and for anyone worried, rest assured that I will NEVER drop this story!!! That I swear to you, I will write this until the end. I’m sure you all must be thinking, “What? You’re still alive?” I know, I’m shocked too. I’ve had a lot going on for the last year (four jobs and I’m finishing my last two classes for my Computer Science degree so I’ll finally graduate in May!) and I really wasn’t happy with the writing quality of the previous chapters. It had been six years since I had written anything when I posted the first chapter, and it wasn’t until some wonderful readers pointed out some issues I had missed that I realized how much I had regressed as a writer. I don’t want to put out poorly written work, so I couldn’t update the story until I was sure the chapter was worth reading._ **

**_I’m super nervous to publish this chapter and see what you all think, because I put a lot of work into this and I want it to be well-done. I hope everyone enjoys reading this and that it’s easier to read it and lose yourself in the story now._ **

**_Please, please, please do not be afraid to leave me honest feedback in your reviews, I absolutely welcome constructive criticism and want to hear what you think. But obviously, don’t flame me. I can take constructive criticism, but attacking me or my story isn’t acceptable. If you don’t like what I write because it’s not your thing, keep it to yourself and don’t read what I write. If you like it, but you notice things that could be done better or didn’t work for you, let me know in a review or even a PM! I’m all for that! I want to improve as a writer and practice alone isn’t enough for that, I need feedback from my readers and I absolutely cherish each and every review, comment, and PM I get from you guys. Like, you have no idea, this chapter wouldn’t have happened even at this point if not for all the reviews, comments, and messages I received. I reread every single one all the time to keep my spirits up and remind me that I don’t suck as much as I think I do. I never thought I would get so much fan love for something I made. The support and love you all have given me totally blew me away. Like, I legit tear up when I read the reviews I’ve been lucky to receive._ **

**_For those who are curious, I’ve spent the last eleven months working on my writing, rewriting this chapter (I rewrote this chapter completely four times), researching the characters and forming their backstory, and also doing quite a bit of research into BDSM itself. **Check out my profile picture, THAT is the fruit of all my labor, the master binder for this story!** I realized as I was working on Wesker and Claire’s relationship going forward that I still struggled to understand the Dominant and Submissive mindset (since I myself don’t practice BDSM, but I think it’s incredibly fascinating) and what sort of thoughts and feelings they would have when they played together. And there was only so far I could get with research on the internet or from books. So way back in August I attended an educational event held by one of the few legitimate BDSM establishments in a city a few hours away from where I live._ **

**_It was amazing, I attended a bunch of lectures, got to see live demonstrations, and best of all, the attendees were more than happy to let me interview them! (I found out from my friend and her friend, a Dominant, who came with us that I was good-naturedly dubbed ‘The chick running around with the notebook’ by the other attendees.) After speaking with all the different Dominants, Subs, Masters, slaves, etc. who attended, it really solidified my understanding of the true nature of BDSM and now I’m dedicated to portraying BDSM as it truly is in my story. Because the reality of it is so different than what we see in the media, there’s so much affection and caring they show to one another. Even though I don’t practice BDSM, everyone there was super polite and nice, they’re all very accepting, and I never felt uncomfortable while I was there watching the demonstrations or talking to the people. I was welcomed and allowed to see a world I don’t normally get to see. It was a great experience and I’m so glad I went, because it was truly eye-opening for me and it corrected a lot of my own ideas of it. So I’m SOOOO excited to show you what I learned as Wesker and Claire’s relationship progresses into that territory.  
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who has left me a review or comment over the last 11 months, or PMed me to check up on me and the story, or just corresponded with me for shits and giggles. Your support keeps me going. Thank you so much to Sunny for the extra feedback and to my best friend, Kaoru, who put up with reading every draft I wrote and change I made._ **

**_Now, without further ado, please enjoy chapter four! I’d love to hear your thoughts afterwards in a review too!_ **

**_Obligatory "I don't own anything related to Resident Evil or Capcom" statement. I do, however, own the plot and any original characters or concepts introduced in the story. Do not use or modify any original characters or concepts I include without my express consent._  
**

**_Cover image credit: WolfShadow14081990 (DeviantArt)_ **

* * *

The door shut behind Claire with a muted click that echoed in the tiny space.

She shivered as the chill in the air forced its way under her clothes and robbed her of the remaining warmth from Wesker’s touch. The room shouldn’t feel this cold. It was early September, so even in the evening their A/C struggled to cool the house.

Why did it feel weird to come home? Nothing major had happened, she was still the same old Claire.

Right?

She stalled even as she moved to face the living room, hesitant to see it and find more evidence of this invisible change. But Claire never backed down from a challenge, real or imagined. She completed her slow turn and saw the living room exactly as she’d left it hours before.

So what the fuck was bugging her? 

Okay, the room appeared darker, but her eyes were still adjusting after coming inside. And maybe the shadows stretched a little longer across the carpet. But her imagination could be messing with her. And yeah, Claire admitted that the air was a little heavier as she inhaled, but this was Missouri. The humidity always choked you this time of the year.

‘Still…something is off.’

She stood still on the linoleum square of the entryway and focused on the atmosphere of the room. With her eyes closed, she scented the air – ugh, the trash needed to be taken out – and then strained her ears to discern the foreign sounds leaking from the walls.

It was all as it should be, and it was also not. The difference now was the missing sense of welcome.

No. Not that. Well…not that exactly.

This was still her house, yet her lips squeezed into a hard line to stifle the sigh building at the back of her throat. Why?

Like usual, her instincts caught on before her brain did, and within a minute Claire figured out the problem.

‘I don’t want to be here…I didn’t want to come home.’

And the only reason she was at home instead of on Wesker’s couch…was because of the rules Chris forced on her.

Tonight, the metallic slide of the door latching in the strike sounded like the closing of a prison cell, snatching her freedom and locking her away from the outside world for crimes she hadn’t committed. 

Blame her emotions on her still-unsatisfied hunger to revel in Wesker’s skin against hers, the lingering wine in her stomach, or the pent-up frustration from living under a dictatorship, however loving it may be, for the last six years, but right now, Claire was so done. 

‘I’m so sick of all Chris’ rules! An 11 p.m. curfew, really? And why do I have to tell him where I’m going and who I’ll be with every time I leave the house?’

She wasn’t a child anymore, damn it! 

Claire fell back against the door, her butt smacking against it with a thump, and twisted to turn the deadbolt and lock on the knob with way more force than necessary. 

“Not that Chris will ever acknowledge that,” she muttered to the darkness.

She ground her teeth – her go-to response to stress – and once again wondered what it would take for her brother to accept that she’d grown up.

‘I wish you would stop thinking of me as that twelve year old girl waiting for the school bus with my hair a mess and my homework still sitting on the dinner table, Chris. I don’t need you making all my decisions and deciding what’s best for me anymore.’

Ha. Even if she grabbed his shirt and shook him silly while she screamed it that in his face, the message would still miss its target.

She’d obeyed him – mostly - without complaint since the day Chris had rushed into her quarantined hospital room wearing a baggy Hazmat suit – Claire was stuck in a scratchy hospital gown – and dropped to his knees by her bed. When she looked down at him, she noticed the stiff collar of his dress uniform underneath the Hazmat suit and remembered his graduation from boot camp was that morning. 

Claire tapped the back of her head against the door repeatedly.

Guilt made her smother the little voice in her head that demanded she rebel each time Chris laid down the law and they butted heads.

Guilt made her play the good girl and walk the line Chris drew for her.

But guilt wasn’t strong enough to staunch her resentment towards her brother’s stupid house rules. It curled around her lungs like an anaconda, constricting her air intake in its coiled grip. The snake grew as it twisted round and round until there was no more space for it to expand, and the persistent itch of deprivation reacted like a caged wild animal desperate for release – if it couldn’t find an escape route, it would make one – and it thrashed against her insides, unconcerned with the damage it inflicted in its struggle. But breathing in the stagnant air of the house brought zero relief; it tasted like ash and soured grapes on her tongue and she resisted the urge to gag with each reluctant swallow.

She wanted to scratch at it, to tear at the source till it bled and exhume the release that had to be buried underneath.

There had to be something to free her from this. She needed a distraction, anything to focus on while she cut off the snake’s food source. The anaconda fed on anger and currently her body carried a full stock of that.

The muscles in her hands tensed when her eyes landed on a discarded pile of Chris’ work boots and dirty socks. Once again, he had left them by the door even though she’d told him a hundred times to stop leaving his shit there. Ohhhh, of all the times he chose to ignore her, he picked today. Lucky her.

She glared at her target with an intensity born from all the frustration she wanted to let loose on someone else. The mild sting of her nails digging into her palm escaped her notice; Claire didn’t mind pain.

‘I’m 18, why do I still have a curfew? Chris didn’t have one when he was my age. If it’s because he doesn’t want me fooling around, then he should know from his own experience how impossible it is to stop a horny teen.’

She kicked one of his discarded socks across the carpet, then the other when the first kick didn’t improve her mood.

Claire sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. The double standard sucked ass, but that wouldn’t stop him from grounding her till graduation if he caught her coming home past her curfew. Not that he would, since Chris usually dragged himself home around 3 a.m. when he went drinking with the team. Chris never came home early on the weekends.

…but what if he did tonight?

Apprehension dropped like a stone in her stomach and she cast a furtive glance around the living room, suddenly paranoid. In her mind, she imagined that her brother lurked around some dark corner, ready to jump out and catch her disobedience in the act. 

‘Idiot! Just because his truck isn’t in the driveway doesn’t mean he’s not here. What if he got shitfaced at the very first bar and ended up being kicked out of the place for fighting another shitfaced idiot and then one of the others dropped him off at home?’ 

It could happen.

She took the first step and winced when the heel of her boot clacked on the linoleum. If he caught her by the door, it would only damn her further, but getting away from the door made so much damn noise.

Maybe she could say she’d only gone out for a late night jog?

She snorted in her head. ‘In this outfit? Yeah right, he’d sooner believe I’ve given up my love of motorcycles before he’d swallow that lie.’

Speaking of jogging, she had to get up early to go work out in the morning. She’d skipped Thursday’s workout to finish her AP Chemistry homework and Claire never worked out less than four times a week. Not after what happened.

Of course, that was only if Chris would let her go to the gym while she was under house arrest for sneaking out to play with his boss.

“Please don’t be here, please don’t be here, please don’t be here,” she chanted low under her breath.  
Fear made her hands sweat and all her senses jump into overdrive. Every sound seemed like some sign of his hidden presence. 

Was that shadow by the TV always that long?

She pressed forward a three feet, creeping low across the carpet till she reached the coffee table.

Was that muffled breathing she could faintly hear, or the quiet hum of the refrigerator?

She rested her hand against the table’s surface and her palm slipped, nearly knocking over a mug half-filled with that morning’s coffee brew.

Wiping her palms across her jeans failed to dry them, the clammy feel of perspiration clung to them still as she stood up to her full height, hoping to survey the hallway before she moved forward any further. But at five foot six, the only view available to her was its entrance and the top half of the kitchen off to the right.

‘Guess I’ll have to take my chances.’

Five more careful steps put her in view of the hallway. It looked empty enough, nothing she could see besides the picture frames lining the walls.

Wait…what was that by the couch?

Her pupils constricted as she focused on the large shadow on the floor at the far end of the couch. Just over the arm, she could make out the outline of what looked like the top of a head and shoulders. Like someone crouching down to hide themselves behind the side of the couch so they could ambush anyone heading towards the hallway.

Oh fuck…oooooooh she was so dead…

She froze where she stood, the terror of her brother’s impending wrath locking her limbs in place.

‘What do I do? Fuck! How do I get out of this?! I can NOT tell him I was at Wesker’s house, because then he’ll wanna know why and no way in hell can I tell him THAT. Chris will absolutely lose his shit if he finds out I was rubbing myself all over his Captain tonight. I don’t want to have to move again because he tried to clock his boss!’

Nor did she want to hear the painful things her brother would no doubt say to her if he found out. When Chris’ temper flared, his mouth raced miles ahead of his brain. And those were the times she got to find out what her brother really thought before his conscience censored him. 

Her heart clenched in anticipation; shameless would be the kindest word he hurled at her.

Without warning, the A/C switched on with a sputtered click and Claire nearly jumped out of her skin from the shock of it. She toppled over onto the carpet with an almost silent squeal and scrambled on hands and knees to get to her feet, already embarrassed by her reaction.

‘Real brave, Claire. Now Chris will think I’m a slut AND a coward.’

She stared at the dark lump next to the couch, waiting for him to start the inquisition. But he stayed silent.

Very unlike Chris.

Since staying on the floor would only make her look even more like a dumbass, she got to her feed and approached the dark shape, looking for any sign of movement. Once she was up close though, the shape’s identity became obvious.

She threw her hands up in the air. “Are you fucking kidding me? God damn it, Chris, you left your dirty laundry by the couch again!”

All that panic over an overfilled basket of clothes.

Claire’s head fell back as she released all her pent-up anxiety in one long exhale. 

“See, Chris never comes home early if alcohol is involved and he doesn’t have to work the next day. When did you become such a wimp, Claire Redfield?”

She laughed at herself, relaxing now that the danger was over. It was amazing what paranoia could do to a girl. It wasn’t like it was her first time sneaking out, but it was definitely the first time she’d done it to see a man.

‘Considering I didn’t get caught, the risk was worth it. But really, what was I worried about? Chris is a creature of habit, you know that. Just because I did something that would absolutely end up with me stuck in my room until graduation doesn’t mean today would be the one time Chris breaks his routine.’

Luck was on her side tonight after all. She’d had a homemade meal AND had gotten to make out with the guy she’d spent the last year fantasizing about every night in bed…and during class…and while checking him out - discretely, of course - each time she visited her brother at work. And then…she’d done way more than just kiss Wesker. 

“Oh my god,” the lust wearing off welcomed reality back in, and it was enjoying giving her its first bitch-slap of the night. Now would be a good time for some more of that wine. “I pretty much shoved his face into my boobs! And I rubbed myself against him like some…dog in heat!”

Was it good to do that? Or bad? Did this make her a slut, or just not a prude?

What did Wesker think of her now?

‘And then I screamed his name when he said all those dirty things to me…it just felt so good to do it…’

Claire hung her head, not quite sure how to process this yet.

Was there something wrong with her? Her arms wrapped around her midsection as she stared down at her feet. Did other people act that way when they were turned on?

The jangling of keys interrupted her downward spiral into the pit of indoctrinated shame. Her head snapped to the left and she fixed her wide eyes on the wiggling door knob.

“Ah shit…stupid f’kin...too many damn keys…” said a familiar male voice outside the door.

“Son of a bitch!” Claire hissed under her breath.

She bolted for her bedroom, jumping over the pile of laundry spilling out of the overfilled hamper and into her path. 

‘I knew my instincts weren’t wrong! Of course he came back early, that’s always how this shit goes! Fuuuuuuck, move it, Redfield!’

Her mad dash resembled an Indiana Jones movie, with Claire as Dr. Jones running for her [love] life as a ‘boulder’ chased her from behind. And the stray boxers that almost tripped her would be the dead vines covering the ground of her escape route.

Her brother’s underwear clung to her foot, like it wanted her to get caught, and she swore at it as she hopped down the hallway on one leg while she reached down to pull it off the bottom of her boot. In a last ditch effort to take her down, the boxers’ elastic band wrapped around the boot’s heel and she had no choice but to stop to get them off. She ripped the boxers free in one violent pull and nearly tore the band in the process, but the damn thing deserved the abuse. Out of spite, she hurled the boxers at Chris’ door and snickered at the sound of them slapping against the wood – wouldn’t it be nice if boxers could feel pain? - before rushing into the safety of her room.

The front door swung open and banged against the wall inside right as Claire spun around to close her door. At the last second, she remembered that extra noise was not her friend right now and stopped the door with the latch resting against the edge of the strike. With the same extreme care a bomb dismantler would use to handle a live explosive, she twisted the knob all the way to the right, and her hands shook with adrenaline as she applied the barest amount of pressure to close that last inch and a half of space.

She immediately scrambled away from the door towards her dresser, ripping her boots and clothes off in the dark. If she turned on the light, she’d give herself away. 

‘I don’t normally go to bed this early on the weekend, but with the way I look he’ll know something’s up. Safer to just let him think I was in here sleeping this whole time.’

From the top drawer of her dresser she pulled out the first shirt and shorts her hands landed on. But the clunk of Chris’ boots stumbling down the hall towards her room informed her that dressing would be impossible.

She clutched her pajamas to her chest and glanced at the door. ‘I didn’t think I’d be naked in a bed tonight, but here I am. At least it’s mine.’ 

With all the stealth of a ninja, Claire slid under her bed sheets, tucking the comforter under her chin. After two deep breaths to slow her heart rate, the door cracked open and Chris peeked his head in to check on her.

She played her part and watched Chris from beneath her lashes as he stared at her from the doorway. ‘Why is it so hard to not move and breathe at the same pace when someone’s watching you? Stop breathing so hard!’

Claire fought against the urge to twitch. Now that she had to lay still, she’d never wanted to move so badly in her life. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. She maintained the deep and measured rhythm and waited for Chris to leave for his own room.

‘God damn it, Chris, go away!’

Except he didn’t. Oh no, as if a demon planted the knowledge in his brain that it was the last thing Claire wanted him to do, Chris instead stumbled into her room and sat on the edge of her bed, right next to her head. He reached for her shoulder, then hesitated with his hand in the air. Was he debating on whether he should wake her up? Or had her ruse failed?

Apparently it was the former, because that same hand dropped down and jostled her shoulder as he whispered, “Claire, you awake?”

‘How could I not be with you shaking my shoulder like you’re mixing a cocktail?’

With no other option, Claire tested her skills as an actress and faked a deep groan, like he’d roused her out of a deep sleep. 

“Chris? What’s wrong?” she asked, adopting a husky tone to drive home her ‘I was totally sleeping’ guise.

He let go of her shoulder and settled his hands in his lap, moving his gaze from her to them. “Nothin’,” he said, “just wanted to check up—“ a hiccup cut him - and his train of thought – off, and several seconds passed before Chris continued, “--on you. Anythin’ happen while I was out?”

‘Yeah, a bunch of things. I learned how to kiss and dry-humped your boss. Hope that’s cool with you.’

She swallowed twice to get rid of the saliva flooding her mouth and ignored the sense of doom festering in the pit of her stomach.

Why was he asking her if something happened? Did he suspect something?!

No way, it was just an innocent question, she reasoned. No reason to be alarmed. Chris asked it all the time. Ha ha. Worrywart Chris. Always fretting over his little sister like an overgrown hen.

Yep, it was a typical question on a typical night.

“Just the usual Friday stuck at home,” she said, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. 

Because tonight wasn’t like every other Friday, and dread built a cold sweat along her spine and churned the acid in her stomach into a tsunami that smashed against its lining.

God, please don’t let him pick up on the nervous twinge in her voice. Or the smell of alcohol on her breath.

Chris said nothing in response and the pursed lips and faraway look on his face revealed nothing of the thoughts scurrying through his mind. Perhaps as a means to fuck with her head, Chris picked at a loose thread on the comforter, scratching at it with his pointer finger when pulling failed. 

Unbeknownst to him, he was scratching more than just the blanket; her pelvis rested directly underneath his hand and she very much wanted him to scratch somewhere else. Nudity granted her hyper-awareness of everything touching her skin right now, and his innocent scratching set off every one of her internal alarms. The struggle to maintain her act went from manageable to torturous and Claire had to bite her tongue to stop herself from screaming, “Stop fucking with the blanket and say something!”

Instead she said, “You’re back early; it’s not even 2 a.m. yet. Did you have a good time drinking with Jill and the team?”

And as she expected, the mention of Jill revived Chris’ mouth.

“Yeahhhh. It was fun ‘n all. Till some dude jus’ walks up ‘n then…he starts talkin’ to Jill! An’ makin’ her ‘gnore…the rest of us. And she let ‘im! The fuck is with that?” He looked down at her as if he expected her to answer, except he didn’t give her the chance to, “An the guy was’n even that good looking…but she was givin’ him tha’ look. Ya know what I mean?”

‘No, I really don’t, Chris.’ But she nodded as if she did and that placated him.

“…that look...she gives me sometimes…”

He swayed in his seat, and Claire worried that he was on the verge of passing out. But instead he flopped backward onto the bed, pinning her legs to the mattress with his body. Claire grunted and tried to push him off with her knees, but his weight won against her leg strength.

“Well,” Claire nudged him one more time with her knee, hoping he’d take the hint this time, but it failed and she resigned herself to being trapped under him with a long sigh, “It’s not like you and Jill are dating, right? You both said you’d never date a person you worked with, so I assumed you guys are just friends.”

‘Who occasionally have casual sex,’ she added.

He groaned and turned his face away from her. Maybe he was embarrassed, or maybe he needed to throw up. 

…It had better not be the second one. 

“Yeah, but still…she’s my partner,” he emphasized the ‘my’, “An’ I hafta protect her from sleazy faces with pretty assholes…No, wait…pretty faces…ahh ya know what I meant!” 

He sounded like a pouting child, sullen and lost, and if she could have sat up without exposing herself, she would’ve patted his head and told him it would be alright, the sleazy asshole with the pretty face wouldn’t steal his partner.

Chris went quiet again and he must have been deep in thought because the silence stretched on for a good three minutes before he spoke again. 

“Claire?” He sat up without warning and rubbed at his eyes, then mumbled, “S’glad you’re not normal like other girls. I don’t hafta worry ‘bout you runnin’ off with some jerk and leavin’ me behind. I don’ want you to be like that, like one of those girls. Don’t you ever get a boyfriend, Claire!” 

Drunk Chris had zero volume control during his slurred rants, so his voice rose and sunk with his shifting mood as he spoke and Claire alternated between flinching when he yelled and twisting her head about so her ears could catch his mumbling. 

“Because—because, lemme tell you! Men…suck…and they all wan’ you. To do… _stuff_...to their dicks. An’ I don’t want you doin’ that! Iz…bad…to do that…’ven if it feels awesome…”

He pointed his finger at her and nearly fell on top of her when he leaned forward too far. “Don’t touch ‘em, Claire! You’re a…you’re a good girl. An’ good girls don’ touch dicks.”

She leveled a flat look at him, already tired with their conversation. ‘So I’m a bad girl if I touch a man’s cock? Hate to break it you, big brother, but at some point, I’m going to touch one.’ 

Especially if she kept playing this game with Wesker. Dick-touching was going to be on the line eventually. They’d only done one penalty so far and she’d started the game at kissing, so the next penalty would have to be stepped up to the next level.

But what was the next level after kissing?

‘I remember someone saying first base is French kissing, and second base is touching under the clothes. But how far does that go? Playing with my breasts? A handjob? Letting him finger me? But isn’t oral sex third base? Why are the leaps between bases so huge?! I don’t understand this system!’

She groaned. This was giving her a headache.

Time for the drunk Redfield to go to his room so the other Redfield could put her damn clothes on and try to catch a few ZZZs before sunrise.

“Chris,” she said, but his attention remained elsewhere. She repeated his name until his eyes focused on her and not on whatever depressing scenario he was imagining in his head. “You need to get some sleep. By the way, I’m getting up early to go to the gym, so is your truck in the driveway?” 

If one of the others drove him home, she might not be able to go to the gym until she picked her bike up on Monday.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘s out there,” he said, waving a limp hand at her. “Rebecca took my truck home in me an’ Brad followed behind us. Cause Brad reaaaaaally wanted to make sure me an’ Rebecca made it here okay. Hrmm…beginnin’ to think Brad likes Rebecca…Chicken-heart and the shrimp…”

He stood up suddenly like a puppet on strings and said, “I’m goin’ t’sleep.”

“Okay…good night.”

He trudged out of her room, forgetting to close her door on his way out.

Then she heard him mutter, “Wha…why’re my boxers hangin’ off m’door?”

She smirked. Why indeed.

Chris didn’t linger on the mystery of the hanging boxers for long. His bedroom door opened and shut, then there was the soft thump of his body hitting the bed.

And then…blissful silence.

She sat up with an incredulous look on her face. ‘Jesus, what was all that? I forgot how weird Chris gets when he’s drunk. Seriously, does he expect me to stay a virgin forever? He’s the one who lost his virginity before he got his driver’s license.’ 

She rolled her eyes at the memory of her brother’s sex-crazed, high school years. Looking back, it really was a miracle he hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant back then. Their parents never caught him fooling around, but Claire had once when she was in the third grade.

She smiled. ‘He thought he was so sly when he’d sneak his girlfriends over before mom and dad came home from work. He used to feed me some bullshit line about how they were going to “study” in his room and to keep it a secret cause mom and dad didn’t allow company over when they weren’t there, but his girlfriend had to be home before six so this was the only time they could study together. But you can only expect a nine-year-old to accept the “studying with a movie playing in the background” excuse for so long before she decides to find out for herself why they’re making so much noise.’

And one Wednesday afternoon she did. She waited until he and his girlfriend started making all those weird noises in his bedroom before sneaking outside. 16-year-old Chris may have been diligent when it came to locking his door, but he always forgot to lower his window blinds until they touched the sill. All she needed was a big white bucket and cinder block stacked outside under his window to spy on his super-secret study session.

She’d stretched up on her tiptoes, clinging to the cracked wood of the faded white sill’s edge to hold her steady as she peered through the glass. The glass was dirty, so she had to press her face close to get a good look at the moving figures inside. There was a scattered pile of clothes on the floor – she recognized the bright top as the one the girl wore to their house – and up on the bed were Chris and his girlfriend. Chris was laying down with his girlfriend sitting on his thighs, and what was weird to Claire was that the girl’s head was resting against Chris legs, at least it looked that way. When Claire wiped at the glass and peered through the clean patch she’d made, she realized that the girl had her brother’s private part in her mouth.

And that was how Claire discovered sex.

A passing car had frightened her not long after that. She’d leapt down from the plastic bucket to scrabble across the dirt and rocks, catching herself on her hands and knees when she stumbled after her jump. Her bloody palms ended up caked with the chalky dirt - she would get yelled at later for wiping them off on her jeans - as she half-crawled, half-ran the short distance to the backyard. 

She’d high-tailed it for the woods behind their house as if the sheriff was at her back, calling for her arrest while his snarling German Shepherds hounded her shadow. She was guilty for the crime of seeing something she wasn’t supposed to, and if anyone found out, she’d get in big trouble. She’d climbed the notched trunk of a huge maple tree and hid among the mass of red leaves.

Lost in thought, Claire reached under the covers to pull her pajamas out. She held them in her lap and fiddled with the ties on the shorts. The incident occurred years ago, but the shock of it still remained with her.

‘I didn’t understand what I saw back then. It was all a big, confusing mess to me. But it’s not like I could go to my parents and say, “Hey mom and dad, I was spying on Chris through his window and saw him and his girlfriend hugging each other naked, and they sounded like it hurt when they were hugging, but their faces looked happy, so now I have a ton of questions for you to answer.”’

In the end, it was the internet, not her parents, who answered her questions. And now she looked forward to continuing her sexual education with some hands-on lessons from an experienced teacher, Chris’ objections be damned. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She yawned right then, the late hour taking its toll on her now that the threat of discovery no longer existed. Ready to end the night, she pulled the tank top she’d grabbed over her head and winced when the movement stretched the skin over her chest. Slipping on the shorts caused her a similar pain, but she assumed the soreness came from grinding her crotch against a hard surface. The chest pain she’d figure out in the morning.

As she laid back down and settled her head back against the pillow, she told herself that she could deal with the rest of her concerns after she woke up. But Chris’ little tirade was too fresh in her mind and just like the man, it intruded on her space and ignored her desire to rest so it could bug her.

‘What did he mean when he said I’m not normal like other girls? Because I haven’t shown an interest in dating anyone? Well, until now, but he doesn’t know that’s changed.’

What did he mean?!

She twisted around in the sheets, trying to get comfortable, trying to find that magic position that would take away all her problems and lull her to sleep. But that, just like the answer she needed, evaded her grasp.

The shadows cast from passing cars danced stretched and shrunk across it as Claire stared up at the ceiling, abandoning one dilemma to drift her thoughts to a different unsolved mystery.

‘What happened while I was sitting in his lap? We were laughing and then the mood changed or something. Then…I saw his eyes. And it’s like my mind and body switched to auto-pilot. Or like someone else was behind the wheel and I was in the passenger seat watching them drive. I thought I would feel guilty or embarrassed to be doing that sort of thing; I damn near had a panic attack getting ready for my first kiss. But there wasn’t any room for that while he was touching me.’

Not now though. Mortification gleefully made itself known, and Claire considered hiding under the blankets and never coming out as she remembered Wesker talking dirty to her.

“How can he say that kind of shit with a straight face?!”

She laughed quietly in disbelief. Who would have thought Wesker the Ice King would say stuff like…nope, even alone in her head, she couldn’t repeat any of it. And he’d said it all while grinding against her like he was fucking her and…oh god that had been so...

Claire suppressed a moan, squeezing her thighs together. Her – clearly - insatiable sex clenched and throbbed, protesting against the cruel neglect of its needs. She glared at the troublemaker below, wishing that cold showers worked on women. 

‘Cool it, you. You got more than enough attention earlier. We can’t get addicted to that sort of thing, not when I have no idea when he and I will be alone like that again. The withdrawal would be a bitch to deal with if I did end up addicted to him.’

A flash flood of adrenaline surged through her veins, chasing away her exhaustion for a moment, as she wondered again how long it would be until she’d see Wesker alone again.

‘Whenever it is, it won’t be soon enough.’

Wesker was damn good at everything he did – kissing and grinding included, but it was his voice that posed the most risk to her resistance than his body. Although his body was a very, very close second. The deep, aristocratic timbre of his caressed her in places his hands could never reach. Like liquid gold, it flowed into her emptiness and filled it with a shining warmth that resonated to every corner of its new home. Exclusively for her, he dropped the cold indifference reserved for the rest of the world and she melted for him when his smooth baritone evolved into dark velvet sin.

The devil must have whispered to Eve with a voice like that.

His voice, more than the words that slipped from his lips, seduced her to abandon reason and allow herself to be enthralled by him.

A ragged groan escaped her lips as she covered her burning cheeks with equally warm hands.

‘It’s a fucking drug, I can’t get enough of hearing him talk. I don’t know how, but he can change his tone in an instant and suddenly you feel like you’re naked and alone in a room together and he knows every single filthy thought you’ve had about him.’

Even now the delicate skin of her ears sang with the pleasant sting of an electric current running along the outer shell. It had been pestering her since after their dessert, while they were sharing a slow, deep kiss on the couch, the empty bowl forgotten on the table. A hint of chocolate still clung to their tongues as they slid against each other. When he’d broken the kiss to give her air – ‘I forgot to use my nose during the kiss again, but I’m still new to this! Kissing isn’t nearly as easy as people make it look!’ - he’d nuzzled his cheek against hers and purred into her ear, “Breathe, love.” 

Dangerous is what it was.

She rubbed her ears for the third time since then, pressing down hard to force the sensation out, but she couldn’t get rid of the delicious sting throbbing under the surface.

‘What’s even scarier is that he can do the same thing with his eyes when he wants to.’ 

Like when he dropped his head low, tipped his shades down the bridge of his nose, and gave her that **look** , the one that said she was co-starring with him in a scenario that involved way more sweating, a lot less clothing, an excessive amount of moaning and begging, and then BAM. Wet panties. 

“No doubt about it,” she said to the empty room, “Every part of that man is dangerous.”

The digital clock across the room flashed on the hour change, catching Claire’s attention. She squinted at the red two and double zeros glowing atop her dresser and almost groaned again.

Shit, she had to be up in four hours if she wanted to get a workout in before everything else she needed to get done today. ‘I need to go to the store after that for sure, we’re out of pretty much everything but beer and tortillas.’

A long yawn brought tears to her eyes and her fingers automatically came up to rub the drooping lids. Bleary eyes counted each textured dot spread along the white ceiling absentmindedly as she mentally went down her to-do list.

‘Mmm…then I need to finish my AP Chemistry lab report and the AP Calculus problems I didn’t get to Friday. After that…’

Something moved, or may have moved, in the shadows covering the corner of her room, but when she glanced at the spot, she couldn’t find the source. Under normal circumstances, she’d have gotten up to investigate it. But Claire was fucking tired and she chose to believe it was just her eyes messing with her.

‘That’s all it is, Claire, there’s no one else in your bedroom.’ 

Resolute determination – or stubbornness, she was a Redfield, after all – fixed her line of sight straight up and she picked up where she’d left off in her count. She would NOT look at the corner like a child searching for the monster that escaped from the closet. 

At the hundred count, she blinked and planned out the housework.

‘There’s plenty of laundry in the living room that needs washing…’

She blinked again and noticed an accumulation of dust on her ceiling fan. 

‘I’ll clean that when I vacuum later…’

She blinked a third time, a slightly longer blink than the last one, and heard a strange whoosh, like air being sucked into a tunnel. Then she felt a soft weight against her nose and mouth and distinct difference in the temperature of the room.

Her eyes snapped open, unaware of how long they’d been closed. But it wasn’t white that greeted her when her vision focused.

It was black. 

Dark nothing encompassed every direction her head twisted.

Claire’s arms ached from above her head, but when she tried to lower them, she found it impossible. Something cold and hard surrounded both of her wrists, binding them together. 

“What the fuck?” she whispered, looking up out of habit, not because she could see shit at the moment.

Hadn’t she just been lying in her bed? So where she was now? Because she certainly wasn’t at home or Chris’ snoring would be disturbing the freaky silence in this place. Not to mention her arms wouldn’t be shackled up so high the soles of her feet barely laid flat on the rock-hard floor. But that was obvious.

Claire grunted, twisting her hips to tug at the restraints holding down her feet. At best, she moved an inch in on each side; nowhere near enough to gain a better footing. 

‘It would help if I could close my legs, but the fucker who did this left me bound with my feet too far apart. What is this, some sort of yoga hybrid of the triangle and tree pose?! Where the hell is this jackass? I’ve got a cramp in my calf and I want out!’

She laced her fingers together, as if in prayer, but Claire didn’t intend to reach out to any deity for help; she’d given up religion when it abandoned her 7 years ago. Now she only relied on herself. If she wanted to pray though, right now the only god whose favor she’d seek would be the God of Carnage. Cause someone was getting their ass handed to them once she freed herself. 

Using her weight, Claire pull down on whatever held her arms up, but her only reward for her efforts was the cacophony of metal shaking and clanking together. The sound reverberated around her in waves, so she had to be in a big room, right? Then again, hard to tell when she was blind as Tiresias.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she glared at the dark. ‘Too bad I’m not a prophet too. Then I could use my clairvoyance to figure out what the hell is going on. Come on, think, Claire. The last thing I remember is staring at the ceiling and then I heard a sound…’

The sound of her gasp multiplied into ten in here as the blood drained from her face.

That movement she saw in the corner, the one she convinced herself was nothing more than a trick of the shadows; it must have been a person! 

Claire clenched her teeth to prevent herself from breathing too fast. If she hyperventilated and passed out, who knew what would happen to her. 

‘There really was someone in my room! God damn it, why don’t I listen to myself?! Argh! But who the hell would sneak into my bedroom and kidnap me? One of the guys?’

No way, even they wouldn’t take a joke this far. Then was it a pervert, a stranger who just happened to pick her house to strike? Chris hadn’t mentioned that there were any break-ins happening on their street as of late. Not that shocking though, criminals tend to avoid neighborhoods with cops living in them.

It could be someone with a grudge against the police, but her money was on a different theory: that she was targeted by someone she knew.

‘Seventy percent of sex crimes are committed by someone the victim knows, after all. But I don’t know anyone who would do something like this, except maybe that weird guy who sits behind me in Cultural Anthropology. He never says anything and sometimes I see him looking at me while he’s scribbling in that notebook of his. But how would a scrawny guy like him manage to—‘

From behind her, she heard it: the heavy fall of footsteps. The clunky, hollow noise of it gave her the impression that newcomer wore boots. Based on the increasing volume and even pace of the steps, the person was heading towards her at a pace that said they believed they had all the time in the world.

“Hey, you!” she said, hiding her trepidation with bravado, “Where am I? What am I doing here?!”

They ignored her and continued their slow approach at her back. Yeah, whoever this was, they weren’t in any rush. Fucking with Claire Redfield must be the last task on their to-do list today.

Claire felt more than heard the stranger change course to circle her, because her skin reacted under the intensity of their gaze, each side of her body tightening as they passed it. Somehow, the stranger made no noise beyond the hollow thump of their boots on the floor as they moved.

‘How is that possible? I should be able to hear them breathing at least. This room’s as quiet as death; it’s unnatural. What the hell is going on here?’

She thrashed against her bindings again, pissed at the vulnerability she felt right now. “Hey! I asked you a question! Did you do this? What the fuck do you want with me?”

The footsteps stopped and for a satisfying moment Claire thought, ‘Got your attention now, fucker.’

But the stranger went back to circling her; guess they had better control of their emotions than her. She was afraid, she recognized that this was a fucked up situation to end up in. But with nothing happening, her temper overwhelmed the fear and her mouth lost its restraints.

Through gritted teeth, Claire growled, “Are you fucking deaf?! I want answers, damn it!”

Without warning, a small and firm object stung her bare thigh and she yelped. She pulled to the left automatically, trying to escape the thing that attacked her out of instinct, not because she thought she could actually get away from it.

“Ow! What the fuck, jackass?!”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, Claire.”

All of Claire froze at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Her muscles stopped flexing, her blood stood still in her veins. Even her mouth couldn’t form a syllable to speak.

‘No way, no fucking way…’

“Wesker?” she asked, because she refused to believe it was him. It couldn’t be him. Why would Wesker of all people kidnap her when they’d seen each other only hours before?

Another hit, right across her left hip. She heard it coming this time; the acoustics of the room amplified the sharp whistle of the instrument as it cut through the air, warning her of the impending strike. The hits annoyed her more than anything, and the pain they inflicted amounted to mild at most.

“You will address me as Sir, Claire. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t fucking understand!” She fired back. “I don’t understand what’s going on, why I’m here, or— Stop smacking me with that damn thing!”

During her tirade, he’d swatted her right upper arm with – she didn’t know what the hell it was, but considering the situation she guessed it to be a crop or type of flexible rod.

She’d have gone straight into another stream of demands and obscenities, but the crop came down on curve of her ass cheek and she whimpered. But not from discomfort. And if she hadn’t been so distracted, she’d have noticed a very important detail about her predicament when the crop touched her ass. But her mind was focused on other matters and she paid no attention to the other alarm going off in her head.

‘Wha…what the fuck? Did that just…feel good?!’

She squirmed, tugging hard on each leg to bring them together and hide the beads of moisture dampening her inner lips. That along with the rush of adrenaline as the muscles of her backside tightened when the rod connected with her flesh confirmed it; the strike delivered pleasure, not pain.

The mark it left behind on her ass tingled like a thousand pinpricks, the sensation strong enough for her to follow their trail as they outlined the developing welt. When she visualized the entirety of that trail in her head, she saw a rosy pink rectangle, the bottom of it dragging down the plump flesh of her own bottom. Like the stroke of a flat-head paint brush on a blank canvas.

**~ The beginning of a work of art. ~**

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Did I say that last part aloud?’

The words came from a woman whose voice sounded familiar to Claire, but she couldn’t put a name to the voice. She twisted her head around, trying to pinpoint the newcomer’s location with her hearing, but the woman’s voice filled the room like a voice-over on a commercial; present, yet separate from the action.

“And who the fuck are you? Nice PA system you’ve got here, by the way. They usually sound like shit so you must have wasted a lot of money making sure you could sound like you’re talking right in my ear while you watch the show in your creeper command center. Or do you have an observation deck attached to this room so you can get your kink on in person?” Claire said, her tone dripping with derision.

She jumped when the crop’s tip brushed along the edge of her jaw. For a second there, she’d forgotten about the other person standing next to her.

“I don’t tolerate disobedience, Claire,” Wesker - because who was she kidding, no one else had a voice like honey-coated razor blades – said. “You would be wise to not test my patience.”

Because it was him, Claire tilted her head towards the gentle touch of it before she thought better of it and jerked her head away.

**~ Not a great idea to ignore him, he gets testy. If you want your answers, play the game. Call him Sir. ~**

“Fine,” Claire snapped at the unknown woman. She’d play along. But only because she wanted answers, and maybe to satisfy her own curiosity.

She took a deep breath and said through clenched teeth, “Did you kidnap me from my home and take me here, Sir?”

The revulsion, the uproar of her rebellious nature, all that she expected to occur once she spat out his title…never happened. What stirred in her the moment she obeyed resembled nothing close to those reactions. The presence behind the response was both foreign and familiar, and she dared not examine it further once it triggered a second wave of fear. Not of Wesker, but of herself.

“Better,” he said, “And no, you came here of your own accord.”

Claire scoffed, but it lacked her usual bite. “Funny, I don’t remember choosing to come here.” She immediately gasped, her back bowing slightly, when the crop kissed the back of her untouched thigh in retaliation for the dropped title. “Sir.”

“Be that as it may,” Wesker said from behind her, “the fact remains that you are the one responsible for how you came to be here.”

“Then are you the one who chained me up? –Sir.” She almost forgot his title again and only just saved herself from another swat by tacking it on in a rush at the end.

‘I could handle it if it just hurt. But when he uses that thing on me, my body doesn’t react right and that scares me.’ Claire stiffened, dragging in a ragged breath as anxiety launched a sudden attack on her. ‘What if there’s something wrong with me? Have I become strange…or was I always this way?’

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

The rhythmic sound of an object smacking into flesh – not hers, for once - broke her out of the mini breakdown and gave her something to concentrate on. She timed her breathing to match the beat of the smacks and waited for Wesker to speak. After thirty seven beats, the thwacking ceased and then, as if commenting on the weather or some other dull topic that meant nothing, Wesker replied, “Yes.”

She gaped at him – well, really she gaped at the dark since she couldn’t see a fucking thing. Speaking of that…

“Did you blindfold me as well, Sir?”

His footsteps once again echoed around her, the sound bouncing off the walls and into her ears until she couldn’t discern where Wesker was. Without her eyesight to prove her wrong, a dozen Weskers circled her together. And they all watched her with roving eyes, taking in her shaky breaths, the tiny jerks she made when she perceived him to be on the edge of touching her, and the nervous swipes of her tongue over parted lips.

His breath ghosted across her sensitive neck and this time Claire jerked hard, biting down on her lip to keep quiet.

“Yes,” he said again. Simple. Concise. Exactly how she’d expect Captain Wesker to answer, not the Albert Wesker she’d become intimately familiar with earlier.

Claire turned her head away from him and ignored the way her skin perked up wherever his air caressed it, the translucent hairs standing on end to reach for him.

‘Was it all an act? Is the Wesker I’ve always seen in public the real Wesker and he just pretended to be the sensual Prince Charming to lower my guard?’

Her heart clenched at the possibility of it.

 **~ Do you really believe that? ~** The lady chided Claire.

“I don’t know,” Claire said, her words spoken like a confession, “I don’t know what to think. I have no fucking idea what’s right, or what’s wrong, all I know is that I feel like an outsider in my own body right now, like I’ve woken up to find that I’ve been sleeping on a web of lies. And even though the spider is coming to eat me, I can’t escape the web.”

The woman hummed in interest, and after a short pause, she answered, **~ Then don’t think. You think too much. Really, Claire, would it be so bad to let the spider eat you? ~**

A large hand traced the contours of her abdomen, paying extra attention to the indents at her hips. Claire cried out for a brief second, twisting in her place as that hand traveled up to cup her waist. To her shame, she pushed her hips into that wandering hand, rather than away from it.

It took serious effort, but Claire struggled through the haze of desire he’d stirred up and said, “Of course it is, I’ll die if it eats me, won’t I?”

Wesker’s hand drifted away and Claire’s knees buckled. The shackles around her wrists dug into them as they supported her entire body weight and though she fought to straighten her legs and ease their burden, her damn limbs refused to obey her.

**~ Not really. It’s not a literal spider we’re talking about, after all. You won’t die if you let go and allow nature to take its course. For things like this, it’s better to just give in instead of suffering unnecessarily. ~**

Should she?

Claire’s heart raced out of control while her lungs decided to do the exact opposite. Each deep inhale bottomed out in between her spread thighs, stroking her walls until they wept, and she dropped her head low to hide the flush climbing up her neck and face.

“And what is this exactly?” she whispered, the best she could manage when his scent – the smell of a smoldering bonfire on the wind as it sweeps through the woods on a winter night – drugged her brain anew.

The end of the crop pushed up on the underside of her chin, raising her face up until her neck stretched in a long, graceful line.

“This,” Wesker said, “is your punishment.”

* * *

**_Ah hahahahaha I'm so evil. Some of you are probably like, "Da fuq I just read?!" Shhh, don't worry, it's all going to be okay. Trust me, there is a method to my madness and this story is NOT veering off into a different direction. Stay with me and wait until the next chapter and all will make sense after that. Many of you will figure it out pretty quickly (and a bunch have! Thank you for not revealing it in your reviews, awesome people!), but for those who don't, fear not. There is a point to this. I'm still unsure about the quality of this chapter, my focus is on showing more than telling in my writing from now on and I'm not sure how successful I was at it for this chapter. But at this point I'm just gonna post it and hope for the best, otherwise I'll keep trying to edit it forever._ **

**_Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed chapter four and I would love it if you’d leave me a review telling me what you think!! You probably noticed this chapter was shorter than chapter 3, and that’s because I’m trying to cut down the length of the chapters to stay between 20 to 25 pages from now on. Chapter 5 is a direct continuation of this scene (plus other stuff, of course!) and I’m already writing it now, so you’ll see chapter 5 come out in April, I promise! Thank you for your patience and support, friends!_ **


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